Ghosts
by hazelmom
Summary: Sara has to confront her past or be destroyed by it. GSR.
1. Default Chapter

Spoiler: no humans involved.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Playing with them anyway.

Not a sequel to Speechless. But thanks so much for the feedback for that story.

Thanks,

Sheila

Ghosts- Chapter 1

Sara sank onto the bench in front of her locker. It had been a long one, a triple in fact. Sofia, Greg, and Grissom had only pulled doubles and so they had already clocked in, probably sitting down and getting assignments by now. They had slept, she could tell. They had the fresh look of showers and rest. She knew that she would go home, and attempt to sleep, but then she would be up in a few hours, cleaning whatever closet or drawer hadn't been scoured in the last month. She would be lucky if she was able to string together 5 hours of broken sleep before her next shift.

Grissom had stopped her, a hand on her arm when they passed in the hallway minutes earlier. He had given her a worried look. He hadn't authorized the extra time. She had planned to not tell him, and just stay the shift, but his eyes told her that he knew she had never gone home. She tried to explain, but he shook his head and told her to go home. He started to say something, maybe to remind her that she needed to go through him when she wanted to triple, but her body tensed when he spoke and he noticed. So he stopped. Her eyes stared back at him, fierce and worn. He just shook his head and told her again to go home. She heard him call her when she walked away, telling her that they would meet and talk soon, but she kept going without any sort of acknowledgement.

Being angry with Grissom had become her fallback position whenever she was overwhelmed with the emotions of the case. She wasn't sure why exactly, but she knew that he represented a detachment that she couldn't seem to find. She resented the fact that he seemed to recycle this detachment conversation every time he saw her stress. For her, it was a redundant conversation, and one she had a hard time believing, even when it came to Grissom.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Sara Sidle." The deep, even voice startled her. She looked up to see Warrick Brown smiling down at her. "Pulled a triple, did you?"

"Yeah."

"Bet you didn't clear it before you did it."

She squinted at him a little. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh, maybe because Sofia knows and is grilling Grissom about why he authorized that much overtime when you could have gotten some rest and finished up the file work tonight, and how this is one of the ways Ecklie can get him."

"And how is Grissom responding?"

"He's just sitting there bent over a case file, acting like he never had any surgery for his hearing."

She wanted to smile back at him, but her face couldn't find one. "It was a tough one. Really settled in my gut. I can't seem to let go."

"Kid starved to death, and then finding his brothers in the condition they were in, it's not surprising."

She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath. Warrick sat down beside her. "There was this moment when I found one brother unconscious, and then there was this arm, and this other child reaches for me….I will never forget how hard he held onto me. And then he never let go. Paramedics had a hard time pulling him off me, and I wanted to tell them to stop because he had already lost so much. If holding me felt safe for him, then let him have it for as long as he wants. But they pulled him off and he cried and I cried. They wouldn't let me in the ambulance."

Warrick reached over and took her hand.

"I saw such a old look in his eyes. Even when he's healthy, he'll never lose that. His childhood is gone. Now everything will be about fear and suspicion and anger. I know this. Why do we do this to kids, Warrick?"

"I don't know." His voice was soft.

"They slept. All of them were able to sleep. Did you see? Grissom, Sofia, Greg. They all worked this case. They can sleep, but I can't."

"Which is what you need most of all right now. But before you do that, Nicky and I are going out for a bite, and you're coming with. Probably haven't had more than a sandwich in the last 36 hours."

Her head dropped, "I don't think so."

"That's okay, Sara. I do. You wait here five minutes. I'm going to pull Nick out of an ill-advised conversation with Mia. He seems to think he can shine it on with that girl. He has no idea what he's doing."

Head still in her hands, she nodded. Warrick gave her one last look and turned, almost running into Conrad Ecklie. He stopped , but Ecklie's attention was not on him. So he hurried past.

"Had a tough case, did you?" Sara's head flew up at the sound of his voice.

"Hi Ecklie." She managed.

"Going out with the guys late at night. Probably to a bar. Have a few. Relax. Do a little dancing, maybe." He stood in front of her, his arms folded. "It's a good idea. Really. Just make sure someone drives you home."

"You are assuming that I would be drinking."

"What else do you do in Vegas at midnight? I guess you could gamble, and you are going with Warrick."

"Ecklie, please! This is not the night for this."

"You are under a lot of stress, Sara. It shows. Everyone sees it. Just tell me that you are talking to Grissom about it. Tell me that he has a handle on how you are doing right now."

"I talk to my supervisor whenever I need to."

"Maybe he should be the one deciding when you need to talk. I know you pulled a triple without authorization. Does he even see what the rest of us see?"

"I'm so tired, Ecklie. Can we talk about this later?"

"I shouldn't tell you this, but I am going to because I think you have huge potential that is being thrown away here."

Sara dropped her head back into her hands.

"I had lunch with the sheriff. He saw you on the news. Very, very touching. That boy clung to you while you rocked him. Another boost for law enforcement public relations. He has noticed you. Talked about you. Wants you for a statewide task force that he and the FBI are putting together. You'd be following serial criminals across jurisdictions. Exciting stuff."

Sara raised her head and looked at him.

"Really a great opportunity for you. But, unfortunately, I had to tell the sheriff that I can't recommend you for it."

"Ecklie!"

"I had to tell him that you don't have the right boundaries. You are a great CSI, but you cannot seem to separate your professional from your personal life. I told him that you would end up being a liability."

"That's great. Just great, Ecklie." Sara's voice trembled with emotion.

"I told him that you have had a crush on your boss from the moment you walked in this door. I told him that it has been daily break room gossip among your peers for years. I told him that you that cases with women or children as victims are difficult for you. Peers have to make allowances for you. You overwork yourself. Your insomnia is legendary. Your homicide liaison, Brass, doesn't even want to work certain cases with you."

"Are you finished?" She could only whisper at this point.

"People speculate that there is a trauma in your history. One you haven't dealt with. One that continues to haunt you."

"Whatever happened when I was growing up in Encino is nobody's damn busin…."

She stopped short. Something like a smile was growing on Ecklie's face.

"Well, Sara. As long as your supervisor knows what is going on, it certainly is not anyone else's business at all. I assume that he knows everything he needs to know in order to supervise you properly. It wouldn't look good if he was out of the loop on issues that affect your work."

"Hey Ecklie. What are you doing in here? Grissom needs you." Brass stepped out from the shadows.

"You are interrupting a conversation."

Jim Brass cocked his head slightly, something he liked to do when regarding a suspect. "No, seriously Conrad, Grissom got a heady problem with his bugs. Forgot how to dissect them or something. Says you are the only one who can show him the way. He was just looking for you."

"You know, Jim. We used to be friends."

"Actually Conrad, that requires two people liking one another. I don't remember ever liking you so I am going to have to conclude that it was only you liking me which is kinda creepy when you think about it."

"Brass, I need one more minute with Sara."

"Oh, I think your work here is done. Besides, Grissom's going to be heartbroken if you don't come and show him some of your incredible forensics skills."

Ecklie brushed Brass on his way out. Jim wrinkled his face as if encountering a very bad smell. Sara was pulling things out of her locker.

"Hey kid. Don't listen to him. I think his mother loved his brother better or something when he was a boy. He's an unhappy man."

Sara turned to him, her eyes red and wet. "He says you won't work certain cases with me."

"Not exactly true."

"Not exactly?"

"I just worry about you sometimes. Some of these cases take a toll, and you feel more than most."

The tears rolled down her face. "I don't need anybody covering for me or worrying about me. I don't need people to carry me."

"Oh, Sara. Believe me, you definitely stand on your own two feet." Brass stepped toward her.

Sara slammed her locker and backed away, shaking her head. Then she turned and was gone.

"Listen Warrick. She's good looking and I'm good looking. It's a match made in heaven." Voices began floating closer.

"Nicky, you're fooling yourself here. She talks to you because she feels sorry for you."

"No, no, Brother. Sara will set you straight on that. She knows the amazing effect I have on women. Hey Sara!" The two men turned the corner to find Brass staring off into the distance.

"Where's Sara? I told her we would be right back."

"Yeah, well she was really tired. Told me to tell you that she feels sleepy and just wanted to go home." Brass stayed focused on the exit.

"Everything okay?"

Brass blinked and turned around. "Everything's great."

"Want to come out for some steak and eggs with us?" Nick asked. "This swing shift is something else. Nobody dies from 4p.m.-11p.m. We've been getting out on time all week."

"Sorry. We night guys have to pick up the slack for you daytime playboys."

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

"Hey! Wait." Brass walked after them. "You don't see Sara as much anymore, and I wanted you to know that she's having a hard time. Tough cases. She misses both of you, Catherine. You know how she gets when she's stressed. Just don't let her push you away, okay? She needs you guys."

Nicky looked at Warrick for a moment. "Jim, is there something you want to tell us?"

"Naw. Nothing in particular. But you know Sara. She doesn't like to share her problems with her friends."

"Yeah. I'll call her tomorrow. Make some time for her. Thanks Brass." Warrick turned to leave with Nick, but found himself unable to shake an uneasy feeling stirring in his gut.

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_In her dream, she was falling, always falling deep into a dark hole. She screamed for her mother over and over, begging for her mom to catch her. And she could see her mother standing there staring at her, but never moving a muscle. Then her mother, her one chance at safety bowed her head, turned and walked away. Sara reached for her as she disappeared, and then she was alone. And falling. _

She sat up in bed, heart pounding. The clock said 4:34 a.m. Her bed was a mess, sheets and blanket tangled and twisted, half off the bed. She pushed her tousled hair out of her face, and slid off the bed. Sleep would not be possible again for several hours. Sometimes after the nightmares, she liked to go out and climb the hill behind her apartment. There was a large boulder, and she would crouch on it, waiting patiently for the sun rise.

But today, she was agitated. Ecklie's conversation played over and over in her head. It had been a typical Ecklie conversation. He had dangled bait before and then snatched it away. But there was something about how he kept bringing Grissom into it that made her feel like he wasn't really after her at all. She knew Ecklie was intent on proving that Grissom was a bad manager. It was the only possible weakness in Grissom that Ecklie could exploit. The idea that he would use her to hurt Grissom bothered her immensely. None of her anger or frustration for the man had ever replaced her loyalty to him or her complicated feelings for the man.

Sara knew she had to talk to him, warn him about Ecklie. She knew that this conversation might have to include the truth about her. The thought of it made her stomach queasy. She reached for her cell. At 4:30 in the morning, he was most likely out of the field and back in his office. He picked up on the first ring.

"Grissom."

"Hi! This is Sara."

The phone was silent for a moment. "Have you even tried to sleep yet?"

"Yes, and I'm going right back to sleep the minute I am done talking to you."

"Okay. Well, have a good night then."

"Having a good night? Lots of cases?"

"Why? You feel like you're missing out on something?"

"No. Just curious."

"Sara, why are you calling me at 4:30 in the morning?"

"I…I had a conversation with Ecklie tonight. And it wasn't such a great one. And I think I should talk to you about it."

"What happened?" Grissom's voice lowered.

"I want to meet and talk to you. I am going to see you tomorrow night, but every time I try to talk to you…Well, it just feels like there is an interruption every two minutes."

"Your solution to this?"

"Meet me for dinner before work. Strictly business."

"Of course, I didn't imagine it would be anything else."

"Stanley's off the strip. 6:00."

"What are you going to eat at a steak house?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll manage just fine."

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"Mia says I'm sexy."

"Right, Nicky. And then you woke up." Warrick was changing into his work clothes.

"She says it with her eyes. You wouldn't understand that because you're not a subtle guy."

"Oh, you know what kind of lady's man I am then."

"Yeah. You're a suave talking, smooth walking brother who is too cool for school. But behind all that Barry White I know what's really going on."

"Barry White, huh?" Warrick laughed. "I need to definitely update you on your hip."

"Don't distract me man. I was making a point." Nick's smile widened as he continued. "Behind all that Barry White is just a skinny kid counting the days until the next lunar eclipse. Now you know Mia deserves something just a little more sophisticated than that."

"Yeah. She needs a down home, Texas boy with a cheesy smile and a weird obsession with the Discovery channel like she needs a hole in her head."

Nick threw his head back and laughed. "There's nothing weird about watching the Discovery channel."

"Okay, then tell me what they have on tonight. You have the entire schedule memorized."

"Oh come on, Warrick. Everybody knows that it's Shark Week. Tonight is three hours on the great whites of the barrier reef. I tivo'ed it. Lots of people do."

"No Nicky. Trust me. Lots of people do not tivo Shark Week on the Discovery channel."

"Whatever, man. Hey, did you reach Sara?"

"Very unhappy girl. Demanded to know who forced me to call her. It took me a while to convince her of my own free will."

"So?"

"I got breakfast tomorrow."

"You?"

"Same treatment. I got mountain biking on Saturday."

"She's pissed at us."

"No. Even worse. She's pissed at herself."

"Operation Save Sara From Herself."

"Absolutely."

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"Stanley's has fish tacos?"

"Yup. New chef out of Cuernavaca. I love fish taco's."

"And you know Stanley's has this how?" Grissom was looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"They're called newspapers, Grissom, and they can be obtained with an object called a quarter."

"Okay. Enough said on that." Grissom reached for the steak menu. "Tell me what Ecklie said to you last night."

"The usual. I have no boundaries. I am not objective. And therefore, I cannot be considered for any kind of advancement in the department."

"And he took this occasion to bring this up because…"

"I was tired, vulnerable. And he was fishing around for information on you and how you are supervising me on these issues."

"He's been doing that with everyone for weeks. That's nothing special."

"He wants to know if you know what you need to about me in order to properly supervise me?"

"What?"

Sara was tearing up a roll, piece by piece, and letting it drop to the table. "Do you believe that events that happened when you were young impact the rest of your life?"

"Yes." Grissom pulled his glasses from his face. "Nurture. Your environment inevitably impacts your growth and maturity."

"Did you ever have something impact you in a negative way when you were a child?"

"Yes."

"Do you like to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"Did you know that issues of emotional trauma or mental disease are under the purview of supervision if it directly or indirectly impacts your work?"

"Sara, what have you been reading?"

"The Federal Equal Employment Opportunity Act."

"Do you think that there is an issue that impacts your work that you and I have not yet discussed?"

"I don't know. I suppose. It impacts my sleep. It makes me unable to let go sometimes. It makes me…sad."

"Why haven't you talked to me about this before?"

Sara took a deep breath. "I wanted to, but it's…hard. You pride yourself on your detachment. I can't."

"So…why tell me now?"

"I think Ecklie knows something. And I don't want you caught off guard if he finds out something before you do."

"He could find something out?"

"All he has to do is google Westlaw- Sara Sidle."

"So you want to tell me now in order to protect me from Ecklie."

"Yeah, I do."

"No." Grissom put his glasses back on and fumbled around in his coat.

"What? What does that mean?"

"That's not a good enough reason to tell me." Grissom was opening his wallet. "I got this."

"Grissom!" Sara felt eyes from around the room staring at her.

He stopped what he was doing and leaned forward. "Look, Sara. I know there's a secret. I've known it for a long time. But you shouldn't share it until you are ready."

"I am ready."

"Not if you are afraid of my reaction."

"Those are my insecurities."

"And a lack of trust."

"Please let me do this." She reached over and held his arm.

"I want you to do this, Sara. Very much. You're important to me. But you have to do it for you. Not because of Ecklie. Not because it will protect me."

"I don't know what to do."

Grissom put his hand over hers. "I'm the last one who can effectively advise you about this. But it seems to me that you are stuck in this…place and it is hurting you. You have a lot of people who care about you, and it must be lonely trying to do this by yourself. You should let somebody in. And if it's me, then I will do my best to understand."

"Wow! That wasn't bad, Grissom."

"You are aware that I am human. Right?" He gave her the ghost of a smile.

"You won't listen to me now?"

"No. Think about it. I'll be there when you are ready."

"Ecklie?"

"Is Ecklie. Part of his power is in watching us scramble to compensate for his demands. I won't do it. Nor should you. Worst case scenario; I end up working somewhere else. Really not so dramatic when you think about it."

"I'm tired of changes. Why can't everything be like it was?"

"You really want that, Sara? You think things have been going all that great."

TBC


	2. chapter 2

Spoilers: No Humans Involved

Disclaimer: They are not mine, but they were just sitting there on the doorstep alone with nobody telling me I couldn't play with them.

Thanks for the feedback. As always it is the nectar that inspires further chapters.

Sheila

**Ghosts Chapter 2**

Greg walked to the back of the house alone. He should have waited, but the detective kept pressuring him. It was a guy out of Narcotics, and Greg wasn't familiar with him. He kept asking Greg when CSI was going to show even though Greg assured him that he was qualified. In truth, he wasn't sure he felt all that confident about his abilities. Each new case horrified him more than the last. He felt like he was never able to do much more than stand around waiting for someone else to tackle the hard stuff.

The detective told him that there was a dead girl in the back bedroom, young, maybe 10, maybe 13. Said that they found her doing a drug bust on the house. Told him that they found her bound and gagged, bruises on her face. The detective's description alone was almost enough to make Greg's stomach turn.

Paint peeled off the walls as he walked to the back. There was a deep sour smell, but it was not yet of the body. It was the smell of bodily functions and bad hygiene. Greg heard that they pulled almost 20 people out of the small house, half of them too high to even register the arrest.

At the door, the smell changed. It was hard and foul. Greg winced. The smell of dead body was not something that he was ever going to get used to. The room was trashed. A mattress flung in the corner. Fast food wrappers littered the floor. An ugly red spatter hung on one wall. The girl was in the closet. Dead probably three days. He imagined that they probably closed her in there, and then went out to score more heroin. He stepped around the closet door to look inside.

"Hey!"

Greg jumped back against the wall. Sara was standing in front of him.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Thought I would back you up."

Greg relaxed against the wall.

"Never did a first on the scene before, have you? Has Grissom cleared you for this?" Sara carefully set her kit down, and began unpacking it.

"Where is he? You guys took forever." Greg felt his legs stop shaking.

"Yeah, I was at a hit and run with Grissom and Sofia. He sent me on ahead."

"By yourself?"

"Yup."

"It's a dead girl."

"I know."

"You just had a dead boy."

"I know that too."

"Maybe we should wait for Grissom."

Sara took a breath before responding. "Greg, I understand that Nick and Warrick have been in your ear about taking care of me. They are not subtle about it. But you were on the other case too. My…difficulties are not your burden to carry."

"This is another tough one."

"Well, then I imagine she deserves the best we have to offer. Now let me do what I do, okay?"

Greg let her take the lead. Over her shoulder, he could see the child curled up in the corner. Her face strained against the closet wall, arms pulled behind her back. Sara knelt and just looked at her for a moment. Then she looked over her shoulder.

"They really took their time on her."

"I imagine those bruises extend under her clothes."

"Hand me that. I am going to start dusting her."

"Sara--"

"I know, Greg, but technically you probably shouldn't have even come in alone. She's mine now. I'm going to work it. I need you to go to the police station, and do a trace and DNA on everyone of those bastards, okay?"

"What about the house?"

"Close it off. Grissom or Sofia should be here in a couple of hours. They can take the rooms."

"You're going to be in here alone with her?"

"Bye Greg." Sara had already turned her attention back to the small body. Greg watched for a moment, unsure if he should continue fighting with her about this. She picked up a sheet of tape and carefully laid it on the girl's shoulder. She pressed it down and then pulled it off. With the flashlight on the girl, she meticulously studied her for another spot to print. She was methodical and focused, seemingly unaware that he was still in the room. Greg quietly backed out of the room Abused in life, he knew the child was being cared for in death.

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Brass looked around the room. Some were listless. Others were agitated. They were all in desperate need of a shower. Two people were trying to reason with the officer guarding them, and another was banging his head against a wall. Brass could tell he was going to have a hard time organizing this particular group. To his left, Greg stood, his eyes wide. Brass reached over and shook him a little. Then he gestured toward a chair. Greg grabbed a chair and put it in front of Brass. Brass climbed up and stood, surveying the room.

"Okay!" He shouted and started clapping his hands. All right! Listen up, people! This is how we are going to get this done. We are taking you one at a time. We will be taking a DNA sample from you, and trace evidence from your clothing. We will also be interviewing you. Does everyone understand this so far?"

A rush of indignant voices erupted.

"Good! Good! Glad to have your cooperation. How many of you want to be out of here by the morning?"

Twenty people began talking at the same time.

Brass held up his hand. "Okay! That's what I thought. If you are forthcoming in your interview, you will be out of here in next 4-6 hours. Just in time to score a little powder for breakfast. How does that sound?" Brass didn't wait for a response. "Now, we are not interested in anything less than full cooperation. If we find stories that begin to match up and give us useful information, great! You are on your way. But! You try to hand us a piece of fiction, and I'm going to charge you with conspiracy to murder and throw you in a cell. You can do detox the hard way!"

The room got quiet for the first time.

"Perfect! I think this is going well, don't you? Who is our first witness? Greg, grab your kit. Let's get this show on the road."

………………………………............................................................................................................................

Grissom stood in the doorway to the bedroom. David had just finished moving the child from the closet 15 minutes earlier. David's sensitivity was a blessing in situations like this. He took his time, and was gentle throughout the transfer. Now the bedroom was empty save for Sara who sat cross legged at the closet door staring in. Her kit was packed up, but still she sat. Grissom was reluctant to disturb her. He knew that she needed space to gather herself. Her head turned and she saw him. Her eyes were blinking hard.

"Sofia and I will finish up here if you want to get to the lab."

She nodded. "I want to be there when Doc starts."

He stopped her at the door. "Sara, I…"

"It's okay. I'm okay." She patted his shoulder and moved on down the hall.

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"He had an accent." The man was sweating profusely, beads of moisture dotting his bald head.

"Good start. What kind of accent?"

"I don't know. Portuguese, maybe?"

"Portuguese! Did you hear that Greg? Portuguese!" Brass turned to his young colleague. "What does that make it?"

Greg thought for a moment. "Four, I think. Russian, French, 2 votes for Italian, and now Portuguese."

Brass returned to his witness. "What makes you say Portuguese?"

The man shrugged. "He was foreign sounding."

"Oh, so immediately one would think, hmmm, he must be Portuguese."

"Yeah, I don't know. What do you want from me?"

Brass slammed the table. The man nearly fell off his chair. Leaning in more closely, Brass said, "A child was found tortured and killed in the closet of the home where you were. I want a lot from you, Buddy."

"I wasn't involved!"

"Talk to me now 'cause it's four in the morning and I got twelve more of you idiots. Tell me something interesting now or you're going down to lock-up."

"I don't kno---"

Brass hit the table again. "Get him out of here. Send in the next clown."

"Wait!" The man yelled as a deputy put hands on his shoulders. "I overheard stuff. No direct conversations. Understand?"

"Talk to me."

"I heard she was collateral. Her mom is a runner. Lost some blow. A lot of blow. Foreign guy says he took the girl as collateral."

Brass stared at him for a moment. "What was the point?"

"He says he gave Mom a week to make up the difference. He said she took off, and now he had this kid who was nothing but trouble."

"You saw him bring her over?"

"She was already messed up. Tied up. Walked funny. He took her in the back bedroom with him. A few hours later, he left, alone. People didn't want to know. We closed the bedroom door. Told people it was off limits."

"Wow!" Greg exclaimed.

Brass looked at him, startled.

"Just closed the door on her." Greg continued, shaking his head. "Amazing!"

"In my world, you don't ask questions." said the man.

"You don't have kids?"

"Got 4 or 5. Depends on what their mothers say."

"She was somebody's kid. While you were high, a drug dealer brings in a kid, and kills her in the back room, and you probably heard the whole thing." Greg continued as if he was alone in the room with the man.

"He's got guns, money, and blow. All I got is an itch. It's not survival of the fittest. It's survival of the most invisible."

"Okay, big guy. We want you to sit down with our artist. I want on a face on foreign guy before you go anywhere." Brass took control again.

"Can I get some cigarettes?"

"Oh, shut up."

……………………………….....................................................................................................................

Ecklie looked up as the receptionist brought in a package. He smiled at her as he did with all office support workers. He knew how important it was to be pleasant with his underlings. He was surprised to see how thick it was. It was in an overnight delivery envelope. And it was addressed to Conrad Ecklie from the Department of Children's Services, Encino, California. Ecklie prided himself on being able to manipulate any and all bureaucracies. Without ceremony, he tore open the package and began to read.

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In another part of the building, Grissom staring at his computer screen. It had the Google search engine with Sara's name and Westlaw typed in. Over the course of the last two days, he had pulled up this screen five, maybe six times. He suspected that she had told him that much information so that he could do just this. He reasoned that she might see this as an easier way to tell him. But he couldn't bring himself to hit search. He had told her he was going to wait until she was ready, and so, as he had already done several times, he hit close.

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Disclaimer: Not mine, but I'm playing with them anyway.

The feedback has been wonderful. **And greatly appreciated. **I am about 3-4 chapters ahead, and so hope to post daily until it is finished.

Thanks again for the kind words,

Sheila

**Ghosts Chapter 3**

"I think they called her Mustang Sally. You know, ride Sally ride. She would do anything for a score."

"You sure the girl was her daughter."

"Looked like her. Kid's name was Hannah."

"Where can we find her?"

"She used to work at Jackpot off the strip until she got drug ugly. Last I heard, she was tricking somewhere off Canal Street."

"Okay, Pal. You get a free pass out the door."

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"Well, Sara, I guess I'd put her age at around 13. She's small, but she has the maturity of secondary sex characteristics."

Sara stood beside Doc Robins. "How did she die?"

He pulled his glasses down to the end of his nose. "Strangulation. Ligature marks on her necks are thick. Probably nylon socks or a tie, something like that."

"She has a lot of bruising."

"She was knocked around pretty badly over the last week or so. She was sexually assaulted repeatedly."

"She was tortured."

"Yeah."

"Any identifying marks?"

"Poor oral hygiene. I'll put her dental markers on the database, but there is a good chance she never saw a dentist. Any missing kids come up for you?"

"Nothing."

"I can tell you one thing about her. She was a fighter. Look at those defensive marks." Doc lifted up a bruised and battered arm.

The child looked fierce, even in death.

………………………………..................................................................................................................

"Hey, Catherine!" Brass trotted up to her as she left her office. "I have an interview coming in. Do you have time to help?"

"What case?"

"Sara's. Dead girl tied up in the closet."

Catherine smiled. "Jim, Sara will be all over that interview."

"Which is why I prefer you right now."

"She's not going to be happy."

"She's not herself these days. I'm uneasy about putting too much on her right now. I'll risk her wrath."

"Say no more. Warrick and Nick filled me in. If she growls, we'll just say that I jumped in last moment after hearing about the case. That's sounds about my style, don't you think?"

………………………………..................................................................................................................

"Do you know what this is?"

"No." Sara sat forward in a chair in front of Ecklie's desk.

"It's a copy of your Child Services file." Ecklie waved it in front of her.

Sara's mouth dropped. She couldn't say anything.

"How did Ecklie get this is your question. Well, Sara, you have to say the right things and know the right people."

She just stared at him.

"Sara, I didn't get this to hurt you. I have to protect the department. Do you know what a good defense lawyer would say if he got a hold of this? He would say you should never be in charge of a case involving an abused child, and he would be right."

"So I'm out." Calmly, she faced him.

"Well, you have tremendous skills. I am thinking that you could stay, work only in the lab, and I would supervise you. We would address these issues in our supervision."

She looked at him, her face deadpan, and without further reply, got up and walked out of his office.

"Sara! We aren't finished talking about this!"

She was around the corner before he could finish speaking.

……………………………….................................................................................................................

Catherine almost felt sorry for her. Sally Dutton was a ghost. She was paper thin with large dark circles under her eyes. Large bruises dotted her arms. Her bedraggled hair was pulled back, and then lay in a nest down her back.

She cried for her daughter, slapping the table in frustration. Brass waded in carefully. He asked her questions, but was patient for her replies.

"He took her for collateral?"

She hiccupped, and gathered herself, "I got mugged and I had a quarter kilo on me. He took me I had a week to reimburse him."

"You didn't come to us. Instead, you left your daughter with a drug dealer, a strange man." Brass was careful but firm."

"I didn't know what to do." She collapsed into further sobbing. Brass looked at Catherine. She went around the table and sat next to Sally.

"Sally, you need to concentrate. We need to find the man who killed Hannah. You need to tell us who that is."

"He'll kill me and my son."

"We'll catch him. And you know it's not right for your son to be with you right now. He's only five. He needs better care than what you can give him."

She erupted again. "I'll die without him."

"No, Sally. You are a mother. You want the best for him. As mothers, we sacrifice when we have to. That's what we do." Catherine put a hand on the shaking woman's shoulder.

"Hannah is so willful. She doesn't listen to me. I thought a week with Viktor would break her a little bit, calm her down. I never thought he would do this. Never."

Catherine felt a chill, and dropped her hand away from Sally. This woman knew that Viktor would hurt Hannah. "Tell me about Viktor."

"He'll kill me."

Catherine pulled her face toward her. "Tell me now. This is over for you, Sally. Your daughter is gone. Your son is gone. You will go to jail for neglecting your children. That's a fact. Non-negotiable. How long you are gone depends on how you handle this moment right here."

The woman was no match for Catherine. "He's a Russian guy. Works out of Jersey. Comes in weekly. Stays at the Sands. Hangs out at a lounge off the strip, The Oasis. That's where I find him. He's gone now. A guy at the lounge said he flew out two days ago."

"Last name, Sally."

"I don't know. They call him Viktor the Snake. That's all I know. Please, I am hurting. I need help. I can't go this long without something. I'll die in there."

Brass said, "Sorry, Sally. You are going to have to do this the hard way." He gestured at a deputy. "You are going to have to sit in a cell and wonder if it's even a tenth as hard as a week with Viktor was for your child."

……………………………….......................................................................................................................

Sara stared at Sally Dutton through the glass. She felt numb. So many things rushing through her simultaneously. The dead child. Her bruises. Her face seeking comfort against the closet wall. Greg under orders to protect her. Sally Dutton sitting there grieving her daughter almost as much as she grieved the loss of her drugs. Catherine standing over Sally when she should have been there. Ecklie and her file. Ecklie as her supervisor. Ecklie telling her she was a liability. Brass confirming this with her absence in interrogation. She didn't hear the observation room door open.

"Wondered if you would be back here."

Sara didn't turn to acknowledge her colleague.

"Brass asked me to come in, and I couldn't resist. It was sort of a mother to mother thing." Catherine moved up next to her. For a moment they both stared at Sally who sat hunched over on the table, moaning into her folded arms.

"How long has it been this way?" Sara asked.

"Excuse me."

"How long have I been a liability to the unit?"

Sara, that's not true."

"Why wait until Ecklie got involved? Why not say this to me before that?"

"What did Ecklie say to you?"

"Only the stuff you have all been thinking."

"We do not think like Ecklie, Sara."

"I can't be trusted. I have to be protected."

"We care about you, Sara. Nothing sinister about that. Please tell me what Ecklie said."

"Ask him, he'll show you. This case is not over."

"Tell me about Ecklie."

"I'm not done with this case, Catherine. There is still Viktor to catch. All of your good intentions can't keep me from doing my job."

"They are checking the lounge and the hotel right now for him." Sara turned to find Brass had entered the room.

"He's not going to be that easy. You know that."

"We got it, Sara."

"Yeah, thanks for that, Jim." Her anger was palpable.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." Sara took one last look at the ghost of a woman slumped over on the table like a deflated doll.

"Sara, please let--" She pushed past him before he could complete his sentence. He turned to follow her, but Catherine had a hand on his arm. She shook her head slowly.

………………………………................................................................................................................

Grissom saw her go by his office. She moved fast, but even then he could sense a tension from her.

"Sara!" he called. But she was gone.

Grissom got up and trotted after her. He caught her at the locker room. If she sensed his presence, she didn't acknowledge it. She began pulling things out of lockers.

"What's going on?"

"Don't start with me, Grissom. I don't know how much you know, but I have taken about as much as I can take right now."

He shrugged. "I've been working tread patterns on the hit and run from two nights ago. I…you just seem agitated."

She sighed. "I don't know how much longer I can handle this."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't think I'm cut out for this, Grissom. All of you want too much from me. I can't be this person you need me to be."

"What happened?"

"I can't do this now. I gotta go." She stopped and looked at him, her eyes bright and large.

"Can we talk later?"

Reluctantly, she nodded at him. He watched as she swung her athletic bag over her shoulder and disappeared out the door.

………………………………............................................................................................................................

Catherine strode into Ecklie's office. He looked up as if expecting her and gestured to a chair.

"What did you do to her, Conrad?" Catherine had a flushed look.

"I assume you are talking about Sara."

"What did you do?"

"Catherine, you are a new supervisor. But I believe even you understand that an employee with an emotional agenda can be dangerous to this work."

"Just tell me what you did, Conrad."

"Got to the truth of the matter with her. It's what a good supervisor does." He pushed forward Sara's child services file, leaned back in his chair and waited for a response.

Catherine bent over the file for a moment. She got through the first page and then slammed it shut. "How did you get this?"

"You are not even her supervisor, and yet here you are. Even on different shifts you know more about what is going on with her than Grissom does. This tells you something about why Grissom concerns me. It's admirable how you are still so willing to pick up the slack for him."

"You had no right to do this, Conrad."

"If it impacts the work we do, then I have every right. Be careful here, Catherine, you are still new to this. Don't assume too much."

Catherine was on her feet. "You assume too much, Conrad. If we lose her because of this, you are going to have more than just a little trouble on your hands."

He tried to interrupt, but she put up her hand. "You have no idea." Then she walked out.

……………………………….................................................................................................................

TBC


	4. chapter 4

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Disclaimer: Not mine, but they were laying on the sidewalk with nobody around.

Feedback has been terrific, and it has inspired me tons. I am still several chapters ahead of what I am posting so should be able to continue posting a chapter a day. Things start to get dark and scary now. Hope that doesn't scare you off.

Sheila

**Ghosts Chapter 4**

At first, she drank fast. Four beers down in an hour. Then she slowed, weighted down by the liquid in her stomach. She lost interest in drinking after five, and left the final can in the refrigerator. There was a newspaper propped on the kitchen counter in front of her. Hannah's picture was on the front page. A school picture. Blonde, scraggly hair. Freckles. And a big, gap-toothed smile. Sara could imagine that little girl with her hopes and dreams, believing that a better world was out there for her. Sara remembered having the very same dreams when she was a girl. She picked up Hannah's picture and wandered into her bedroom. Laying the paper beside her, she fell on her bed. For awhile, she just lay there, staring at herself in her dresser mirror. She reached down to her waist and pulled her shirt up the side of her torso. A pink line appeared along the side of her ribs, and she stopped. She ran her fingers along the raised ridge of her scar. It's soft color belied its angry history. For awhile, she stayed like this, running her fingers lightly back and forth, remembering its genesis; as an ugly, purple, gash that poured blood all over her mother's nice green carpet. There were other images to remember: screams and yelling, the dining room table being pushed over, a bottle of vodka spilled on the kitchen counter, syringes bouncing off the ground, a serrated steak knife, and her mother laying on the floor sprawled out like a rag doll. The toxicity of the alcohol spun those memories around and around inside her head until her brain mercifully settled into darkness.

………………………………...............................................................................................................

Catherine got only half the story out of her mouth before he was up. He brushed past her, and strode down the hallway. Greg saw him and attempted a conversation about the trace evidence on Hannah Dutton. Grissom moved on as if Greg hadn't spoken. He only slowed when he reached Ecklie's office. He could see Conrad sitting at his desk. At the doorway, he paused.

Conrad wore a grin. "Well, I timed it a little long. I thought it would actually take another 20 minutes before you showed up. Catherine didn't waste any time."

"How did you get something like that, Conrad? Did you lie? Did you lie to a judge to get a court order? What?"

Conrad leaned forward on his desk. "I protected this unit. That's what I did. I made sure that we knew our liability before the rest of the world did. I protected the victims whom she serves."

"Do you really believe that?" Grissom still stood at the door as if further proximity was too much.

"Do you even know her story? Do you know what a history like hers can mean to the integrity of our cases. You have let her compromise cases with her obsessions and inappropriate boundaries, and a relationship with you. You have sat back while she emotionally disintegrates in front of the entire lab. And you do nothing."

"I show her respect and I let her discover her own truths."

"Wow, Grissom. Have you been reading the Dalai Lama? Where do you get this stuff? A supervisor has to take control. But you will never know that. Once again, I have to save your own shift from you."

"Where is her file?"

"So you finally want to know her history?"

Grissom ignored him. He spied the California label on the cover, perched on the edge of Ecklie's desk. Striding over, he pulled it off the desk without a word. Ecklie jumped back.

"Grissom!"

"Sorry Conrad, her attorney is going to need this for the lawsuit."

Grissom tucked the file under his arm and left. Ecklie leaned forward, mouth wide open. When he could speak, he reached over to the phone and asked his secretary to get the sheriff.

………………………………...........................................................................................................................

Catherine had the rounds that morning, and now Brass making a call of his own.

"Hey, Missy, I need a few minutes with the sheriff today. What do you say?"

"Sorry, Jim. Sheriff's too busy. Mayor is down his throat about next year's budget."

"Nope, Missy. I need him today."

"Doesn't work that way, Jim. You know that."

"Okay, Missy. Just get a message to him, okay?"

"I'll try."

"Good girl, Missy. Just tell him that in the next 3-4 hours, I don't know when, I'm going up to Ecklie's office and I am going to shoot him in the knee cap. I don't know if it will be the right or the left one. I'm not sure. I haven't decided yet."

"Jim!"

"Right. So Missy, if you could please tell him that I would be mighty appreciative."

"You do not want to me to bring this nonsense to the sheriff."

"Tell him, I will probably be free around lunch time, and I know this great Philly steak and cheese place."

"Believe me, Jim, if I bring this sad collection of threats to the---"

He interrupted. "And remember to tell him how I'm a man of my word. You can remind him of the time when I first got to Vegas, and he was a homicide detective and he was involved in that police brutality incident where the 15 year-old kid sustained three fractures and I was the one---"

"Jim, just give me the address of the steak and cheese place, will you?"

……………………………….........................................................................................................................

Sara let the radio wake her. Hannah Dutton was still a top story. The reporter said that authorities had yet to arrest a suspect. She wasn't surprised. Dealers like Viktor were used to living life on the fringes. He probably had a number of places he could stay under the radar for however long he wanted. She imagined him sitting somewhere watching t.v., getting high, eating; going about his everyday life feeling nothing for the girl with freckles that he hurt and killed.

Sara finally sat up. She looked in the mirror and, for a moment, she saw Sally Dutton. Tangled dark hair. Pale, skinny arms. Shadows born under her eyes of dehydration and too little food. A hangover was growing at her temples. And then she saw her mother's face staring back at her.

She climbed of the bed in search of some aspirin and a glass of water. Again, she passed the bedroom mirror. She was looking as thin as Sally. Forgetting to eat was always a byproduct of her stress. The continuing similarities to Sally disgusted her. Pathetic Sally who couldn't care for her children. Pathetic Sara who couldn't care for herself. She grabbed a towel, eager to erase as many of the similarities as possible.

At the bathroom mirror, she stopped again. Could she and Sally live in the same world? Her teeth were too good, and her skin too pink and unmarked. But other than that. She stared. She saw herself and then Sally, and her mother. Her mother had no equal. She was so pretty when Sara was a girl; golden skin and soft brown hair with eyes that glowed. She would walk into a room, and people would stop what they were doing to stare. Sara liked to remember her mother like this; before the glow faded.

The phone rang several times while she stared in the bathroom mirror, and then somebody was pounding on the door for a while. She ignored all of it. Hannah, Sally, and her mother were with her, and she couldn't be disturbed.

Finally she dropped the towel to the ground. She had come to a decision. It was an extreme one, and she felt a mixture of fear and excitement swirling about inside her gut. She turned to the bathroom cupboard and began fumbling until she located the syringes she used for the occasional allergy shot she self-administered.

Back in the bedroom, she cleaned the inside of her right elbow. Wincing slightly, she began poking herself. She did it carelessly, allowing bruises to form from missed veins. Again, she looked in the mirror. Her arm looked red and raw, but she still felt too clean. She remembered the numerous bruises on Sally's upper arms. Getting up, she positioned her closet door open. Then, with a grunt, she swung her arm into the door's edge. She did this again and again. Her arms ached from the abuse, and she felt sure that angry, purple welts were soon to follow.

Then she remembered her rag drawer. From it, she pulled an old t-shirt. The cotton fabric was thin and worn. Several, small holes marked the shirt. She pulled it over her head, and went in search of the oldest pair of jeans she could find. She pulled her tangled hair into an uneven pony tail, and rubbed potting soil into her fingernails.

She surveyed herself in the mirror. She looked dirty and bedraggled. Her arms were patched with colorful bruises. She was already feeling sour, and it was all she could do to keep from brushing her teeth. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. She needed to look and feel hungry. She looked at her bedroom clock and saw it was almost 9 p.m. Her odd hours were working in her favor. She took some change, and headed for a bus stop. Showing up to the Oasis lounge in an SUV was going to ruin the effect.

She thought about calling someone, but knew she would get nothing but resistance.

……………………………….....................................................................................................................

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Disclaimer: They are not mine, but I took them anyway.

Thanks for everything. Writing the story is fun, and getting the feedback is like icing on the cake. Thanks again!

Sheila

**Chapter 5**

Nicky sat down to a bag of chips and a cup of coffee. It was not his usual dinner. He liked to eat healthy. It was an issue of control and discipline for him. But tonight, he didn't have the energy to go the extra mile. The gossip today at the lab worried him very much. There were snippets about blow-outs in Ecklie's office involving a cast of rotating characters such as Sara, Grissom, and Catherine. Brass had been in this morning. There was some crazy rumor that he had threatened to shoot Ecklie. Then Brass disappeared around lunchtime and never returned. What he heard that worried him most was the rumor that Sara had stormed off in the middle of shift last night. Today had been the day they were going biking, but when he went to pick her up, she hadn't answered her door or the phone. He assumed that she had buried herself at work for another shift. Now he wondered if she had been there the whole time, and had just not responded to him.

"Hey."

Nick turned his head and nodded at Warrick who was sitting down beside him with a cup of yogurt in hand.

"The palace intrigue is a little thick tonight, don't you think?"

Warrick nodded and then eyed the container he had pulled from the refrigerator.

"She never answered the door when I went to pick her up today."

"Yeah, she blew me off for breakfast yesterday."

"I don't get a good feeling about any of this."

"Hodges thinks Ecklie's going to fire her."

Nick grimaced. "Hodges also thinks that he's next in line for Grissom's job so we are not paying any attention to that guy, okay?"

Warrick showed no interest in eating the container of yogurt he rolled around in his hand. "You'll be happy to know that Mia's asking after you. Says you look sad. Thinks you are a sensitive guy. My eyes almost rolled back into my spinal column."

Nick snorted. "That must have impressed her."

"Yeah, I didn't really notice. Too busy trying to figure out what's going on around here."

"Last time, there was this much drama, we ended up on swing with a new supervisor. I'm not really interested in a sequel."

"Me neither."

"So this moping around thing sort of intrigues her, huh?"

"Yeah, apparently Mia likes her men moody."

Nick dropped his eyebrows and wrinkled his brow. "What do you think? Do I look brooding and intense? Kind of sexy?"

"I guess if she's into gargoyles, you might."

………………………………............................................................................................................................

The lounge was dark and stale. Men drank alone at the bar or at tables around a stage where a naked girl with lifeless eyes absently caressed a pole. Sara blinked against the smoky light, and started to wind her way around the tables. She found one in the corner of the room and sat down.

A waitress in shorts and a glitter gold bikini top stopped at her table. Hunger and hangover had combined to leave her shaky and uncomfortable, but she knew what was expected and so she ordered a mug of the cheapest beer they had.

She had no idea what the next step was, and so she slowly nursed the watery beer, and watched the dancing girl hypnotize men.

………………………………...............................................................................................................

The file lay on the desk in front of him. It contained the answers to many of his questions, but he couldn't open it. He wasn't sure if he was doing out of respect for Sara or because his own sense of privacy was so acute.

He tried to imagine what he should do next. In one scenario, he goes over to her apartment and delivers it in person, giving her an opportunity to talk about it if she wanted. In another, he destroys it, and doesn't tell her he has it. In the final scenario, he just sits there with the file in front of him and waits to see what happens.

Being someone who didn't always understand social needs of people around him, he chose to sit there and do nothing. He found that it was often the thing to do even though it was also the thing that aggravated people most about him.

……………………………….............................................................................................................

"So I bet you thought that was cute, pulling the sheriff out of budget meetings with your petty threats." Ecklie had fallen in behind Brass as he walked down the hall.

"Oh, it was something, all right." Brass didn't break stride.

"Didn't work very well, did it?"

Nope. Sheriff was pissed. He absolutely insists that I assault you off county property. Says the liability is a nightmare."

"Oh, that's rich, Brass."

"Just to let you know, on top of everything else I had to report, I told him those rumors about how you like to push old ladies out into traffic. He's launching an investigation."

"Okay," Ecklie pulled on Brass' arm. "What was the point of all that?"

"Sheriff needs to know that a law enforcement unit cannot survive without integrity. Something you lack in spades, my old friend."

"Protecting the unit is my job."

"Not when you violate peoples' rights to do it."

"Why would I expect you to understand?"

"Right." Brass took off in the other direction. At the corner, he turned his head and said, "Better watch out at crosswalks, Conrad. Sheriff says he's going to assign an undercover detail just to protect the little old ladies of Vegas from you."

……………………………….......................................................................................................................

"Are you into girls?"

The voice startled Sara. She turned to find a man in a leather jacket standing next to her. In response, she merely shrugged and returned to her beer.

"So, if it's not about girls, what brings you here?"

"What? Are you writing a book?" Surliness came easily in Sara's condition.

"Hey. Just trying to be friendly is all." He started to move away.

"Hey. Sorry. Come back. I'm not feeling that great today."

"Ahh, feeling sick, huh? Needing a little medicine that pharmacies don't stock, maybe."

"Something like that." Sara hunched over her beer nervous to make eye contact.

"Well, you picked a bad day, honey. Store's closed. Owner's out of town."

"Not what I heard."

"Well, you can't believe everything you hear now, can you?"

"I'll wait."

The man leaned over and peered into her face. "Not jonesing too bad, I see. Forehead still looks dry."

Sara cursed herself for this missed detail. "I said I could wait."

"Yes, you did, Sweetheart. Yes, you did. How about I wait with you?"

Sara closed her eyes. She wasn't sure how well she could hold up under more questions. But she dived in. As long as you're buying, I guess."

"You got it, Sugar." He whistled for the waitress.

………………………………...............................................................................................................

It took Warrick several minutes to understand what his second cousin was trying to tell him. At first, Warrick thought the man was just drunk. He hadn't had a job in 3 years, and tended to waste his days in bars. Warrick had long since given up on that relationship. But his cousin was insistent. Said that Warrick's white girlfriend was hanging out at the Oasis. Says he remembered her from the time he had bumped into them having breakfast at Caesar's. Says he was trying to protect his cousin from conniving women just in case, this skinny white girl was stepping out on him. Impatiently, Warrick let him stumble through his story. When he hung up, he was ready to forget the ramblings of his drunk, unemployed cousin except for the location; the one place identified by Sally Dutton as the hangout of Viktor the drug dealer gnawed at him.

………………………………...............................................................................................................

"Have you seen Sara?"

Greg looked up and shook his head. Sofia raised an eyebrow.

"Not like her to be late." Grissom was clearly agitated.

"Did you call her?" Greg asked.

"Of course, I called her, Saunders."

"Well, she did walk out last night," offered Sofia.

Grissom glared at her. "Let's drop it, okay?"

"Do you want me to go over to her house?"

"No, Greg. I want you to go to the Bellagio and process the guy who jumped off the 6th floor." He gestured at Sofia. "You too."

"You're not coming?"

"No, Greg. I think the two of you can handle it, don't you?"

Greg decided that Grissom was not actually looking for a response on this question. He gestured to Sofia, and left the older man sitting alone, arms folded, a frown settling into his face.

……………………………….......................................................................................................

The still, smoky air hit Warrick as he walked in out of the cool, desert evening. It took him a minute before he spied his cousin. He sat entranced by the bored gyrations of yet another young girl. Warrick walked over and shook his shoulder.

"Elmer, this better be good."

"Warrick! Haven't seen you in god knows how long. Glad you could come." A wave of sour whiskey hit Warrick and he wrinkled his nose.

"You said that one of my girlfriends was here. Where is she?"

His cousin smiled. "Going to put her in her place, are you? Good for you, boy. Never let 'em get the upper hand."

"Where, Elmer? Where?" Impatience threaded its way through every syllable.

Elmer looked over his shoulder and pointed at a dark corner. Warrick squinted, but couldn't make out anything more than shapes.

"Sit down, Warrick. I'll buy you a drink. Help you get over that girl."

"Another time, Elmer. Another time." Warrick walked around the edge of the room, focusing on a lanky female silhouette. She was seated with a man who was leaning into her. It took only a few steps for him to realize that Sara was indeed the woman that Elmer had seen. He stopped for a moment, startled. She looked tense, her body language belying the truth of her situation. She looked sick almost, and was wearing clothes that didn't match the meticulous woman that he knew.

The man leaned in more, and Sara stiffened. He kept inching a beer back into her hands. A wave of anxiety washed over Warrick as he realized what his friend was up to. She was playing some rogue undercover game with the big boys. The audacity of it stunned him. Without further thought, he walked right into her improvisation.

"Sara!" The sharpness of his voice caused her to jump slightly. The man whipped his head around.

"I'm busy, Warrick." Her voice was low.

"I can see that." He showed no sign that he was going anywhere.

The man pushed back his chair and stood up to Warrick. "Who the hell are you?"

Warrick ignored him. "Sara, you need to come with me now."

She dropped her head into her hands.

"She doesn't want to go with you, Player." The man was almost nose to nose with Warrick.

"She doesn't have a choice." His deep voice and his emerald eyes were steady.

"Warrick, please!" Sara said into her hands.

"I got this, Baby." The man moved in to Warrick who didn't back an inch.

"No! Sammy, stop! Warrick is a friend." She had backed out of her chair and was trying to move between them.

"If your girl wanted to come with you, she would have already left."

"Sammy," Sara was pushing the man away from Warrick. "I need to talk to him alone. Okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere." The man pushed back at Sara. Warrick tensed.

Sara steadied herself. "Sammy, please. A couple of minutes. I'm not leaving with him, okay?"

Sammy backed away. As he turned to walk away, he fixed Warrick with a glare. "She doesn't want you, Man. Take the hint."

Warrick eyed the man until he disappeared out the back and then he turned back to her. "What's wrong with you, Sara?"

"Look, Warrick. It's not what you think."

"Really. 'Cause it looks to me that you decided to play a little game of undercover spy."

"He's buying it, I can feel it."

Warrick put a hand on her shoulder and directed her back into her chair. "I can't even begin to tell you how messed up this is."

Sara's mouth tightened and she avoided his eyes.

"Sara, you need help."

She pushed at the table to stand up, but he had her arm. She stiffened. "I am not a problem. I am not your problem."

"No, you are my friend, and watching you hurt yourself like this is driving me--." Warrick stopped when he noticed the bruises on the arm he was holding. He turned it slightly and found the needle marks. He shook his head slowly. "Sara, just what kind of game are you playing?"

She pulled her arm back. "I need to look the part, not be the part."

"I don't understand this."

"I don't either, really. But I am suffocating at work right now from all of your concern and worry and pity. Everywhere I turn, someone is doing something for my own good. You and Nicky are a good example of this."

Warrick shrugged. "We care."

"And I love you for it. Well, sometimes." Sara closed her eyes for a moment, and then she learned toward him. "I'm lost right now. I have feelings, fears and anger, that I do not understand. My childhood lives in my head like it happened yesterday. And on top of everything, Brass won't work with me, Grissom stares at me like he waiting for me to have a psychotic break, you and Nicky are manipulating my life, and Ecklie says that he is going to supervise and counsel me. Life sucks for me right now, Warrick."

"I didn't know the part about Ecklie."

"It's mostly for Grissom's benefit, I think. Ecklie loves to hurt him."

"Sara, I have never pitied you."

"Sometimes, I can imagine talking to you about all of this. You know what it is like to lose your childhood early. And somehow, you haven't let it follow you into your adulthood."

Warrick laughed. "You've never seen me on Christmas day, Sara." He put his hand over hers. "Seriously though, it would be an honor to listen to your story."

She nodded at him. "None of that stops me from wanting to do this."

"I can't let you."

"I know." She pushed herself up. "Just let me use the bathroom and then we're gone."

"Sara." He warned.

"Sorry, 'Rick. Three beers. What can I say?" She smiled at him. Impulsively, she ran up and kissed him on the cheek. "Just be a minute, okay/"

Warrick settled back into the chair. The waitress stopped by, but he waved her away. For a moment, he watched the dancer, but he could find nothing sexy in a young girl gyrating in order to survive. After three minutes, he was concerned about Sara, drumming his fingers on the table. At five minutes, he stood up and went down the hallway to the bathroom. He rapped on the women's door, but got no response. He waited for a moment, and then pushed it open. The room was empty. He came out and looked both ways. Further down the hall, he saw a neon exit sign. He ran down and pushed through it. The alley was empty. He ran up and down it, calling her name. Finally, he stopped at a dumpster and kicked it soundly. In exasperation and pain, he yelled. He cursed himself again, and then grabbed for his cell phone.

………………………………..............................................................................................................

She sat slumped in the passenger seat, staring out the side window. Sammy grilled her about her conversation with Warrick, but she ignored him. The guilt she felt filled her body, almost physical throbbing. Images of Warrick and her other friends flashed over and over again in her head. Grissom's face came to her the most. He had not even been in the bar, and yet it was he that she felt she was betraying the most.

………………………………............................................................................................................

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Disclaimer: They are not mine, but I'm not proud.

I hope this is fun for you all. It is a scarier story than I thought it would be. Your feedback has been wonderful.

**Chapter 6**

"Tell me this is a joke, Warrick. Just tell me you acquired a sick sense of humor in the last twelve hours." Brass' voice had attained a new pitch.

Warrick ignored him. He stood in the alley now with a small crowd. Nicky was on his hands and knees with a flashlight looking for tire tracks. Greg followed behind him with a plaster kit. Catherine was in the bar talking to the bartender about Sammy. Of all of them, Grissom showed the least energy. He stood at the edge of the alley where it intersected with San Diego Boulevard, and stared into the distance.

"She really had tracks on her arms?"

"Self-administered. Part of the act. She wasn't high."

"Oh, I feel much better now. She thinks I won't work with her, huh? For this reason, she is playing Mata Hari with drug dealers." Brass was pacing back and forth.

"She is upset with all of us. Nothing special about you, Jim."

"And you let her go to the bathroom?"

"Generally not a suspicious activity, you know."

"Well, under the circumstance, 'Rick, I don't know."

Nicky leaned back on his haunches for a moment and look at them. "The sarcasm isn't helping, you know."

"You got any good prints on him yet, Nick." Grissom had strolled back to the group.

"Greg has his beer glass bagged. We're on it."

Grissom turned to Brass. "This is not Warrick's fault Jim. Even if he had dragged her away, we couldn't have held her. They don't get any more determined than Sara Sidle."

"So we just leave her, Gil?" Brass' energy hadn't wavered.

"Not for a minute. But having her doesn't mean we are reaching her."

"So what now?"

"We find Sammy, we find Sara. Hopefully inspiration will have caught up to us by then." He turned without waiting for a response and wandered back down the alley.

………………………………..........................................................................................................

The house was out on the edge of Vegas. The neighborhood was nothing but brush and dirt with a few dilapidated homes to break the monotony. Following him inside took all of her courage. Scenarios of what she would face inside crowded her mind.

Inside there was people, maybe 10 or 12 of them. All of them were listless, sprawled over various pieces of furniture. She almost sighed with relief. Being alone with Sammy worried her far worse than this crowd. The house was dirty, and smelled of body odor and pizza boxes. A T.V. flickered in the corner, but nobody seemed to be watching.

Sammy stepped over bodies and disappeared into the back. When he came back, he was smiling. He took her hand and dropped a tiny plastic bag of powder into her palm. "My treat." He whispered into her ear. She shivered a little, and closed her hand on the bag. He motioned to a dirty, cream couch sagging in the corner.

She resisted his pull, and whispered back. "I need a little privacy with this, you know?"

"The bedroom maybe?" The smell of him curdled her stomach.

"No, sorry. I just don't shoot up in front of other people much. But it's okay." She pulled him over to the couch. She let him pull his works out of his coat, and then watched as he cooked the powder. She grabbed his arm when he pulled out a syringe. "I only do clean needles, Sammy."

Sammy nodded and got up. A moment later, he was back holding a syringe still encased in the manufacturer's plastic. She pulled the plastic off and let him fill the needle. He reached over and pulled her arm toward him. Again, she resisted. "I like to do this part myself."

"Funny. A lot of people prefer to have someone else stick them."

She shrugged. "Sorry. Just my own control issues. What can I say?"

He settled in and watched. She stopped, the needle poised above her arm. "Sammy, you go ahead. I don't need an audience, okay?"

Sammy reached back in for the syringe he had tried to give her earlier, and began to prepare the powder for himself. She waited until his eyes left her and surreptitiously let the syringe bleed drug into her shirt. He looked at her again, and she smiled. She hoped that she had emptied most if not all of the drug. Then she winced, pushing the needle into her arm.

It only took a moment before she felt herself floating. What little of the drug was still in the needle was more than her system could tolerate. She fought for control, but found that it was like swimming upstream against a heavy current. She felt his breath on her neck and pulled away. He pulled at her for a while, trying to gain access, but she fought. She finally felt him slump against her shoulder, eyes closed and mouth open. She tried to get up, but the room swayed, her limbs refusing to cooperate with her commands.

"Help me, Grissom. Please." She whimpered before falling back against the couch. The drug was powerful, and she soon succumbed, sprawled out, her head come to rest on Sammy's chest.

………………………………...................................................................................................................

"Sammy Patterson. Small time hood. A few Collars for possession, intent to sell, and a couple of B&E's."

"Address? Known associates?"

"Sorry, Jim. He's not really on our radar." A tall narcotics detective was leaning against the wall in reception.

"Well, then, what the hell good are you to me?"

"A question I have asked myself for years."

"Come on, Bob. This is serious. She's a friend."

"Well, grilling me like a perp isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Just tell me where to start."

"If I were you, I would start with our list of known drug residences. He's probably holed up with her at one of those."

"Great. How long would that list be?"

"About 500 odd, I think."

"I'm raiding 500 houses?" Brass let out a low whistle.

"Not with my crew, you're not. I'll give you the list. Run down your leads. Then throw me your 3 best guesses. We're certainly not going to send the whole addict population out into the streets at the same time. That's all we need."

"You're a cold bastard, you know that, Lieutenant Monroe."

"What? You think I pick daisies for a living. How the hell else do you think I get through the day." The narcotics detective pushed off from the wall.

"You'll keep your ears open for me?"

"We'll pull in all our contacts just for you, Jim."

"She's important to me."

"We got your back, Jim." The detective patted Brass on the shoulder before heading back to his unit.

………………………………............................................................................................................................

Sara pushed herself up using Sammy's prone form as leverage. She struggled to her feet. Her head pounded and her mouth felt like cotton. Using the wall as a guide, she walked down the hallway and into the bathroom. The sink was putrid. She breathed out and turned on the faucet, gathering up water and splashing it on her face. Her face appeared in the smeared mirror in front of her. Her ponytail had loosened and tendrils of hair fell into her face. The sweat Sammy had looked for earlier was in abundant supply now. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead even after she washed her face. Her t-shirt felt damp and sticky against her skin.

She stumbled back through the living room and into the kitchen. She wasn't sure if her dizziness was only drug related. She couldn't remember her last meal. The only food product she could find was pizza. Boxes littered the kitchen counter, and she rifled through them. She found some pepperoni pizza. The cheese was congealed, but it still had enough elasticity to be somewhat recent. She stood at the counter and picked off the pepperoni. The slice still reeked of the meat, but she forced herself to eat it. Taking small bites, she worked her way through the piece. Then she found a glass. It didn't smell clean, but she couldn't find any dish soap. Finally she satisfied herself by leaning her head under the sink and drinking directly from the faucet.

"Hiya."

Startled, Sara's head popped up.

"I'm Blaine. This is my house." He was tall and lanky with long, blonde, scraggly hair that hung down his back.

"I'm Sara."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"So, you're here with Sammy, huh?"

"Just friends." Her face tightened.

"Sammy probably thinks otherwise."

Sara shrugged.

"Don't let him bother you. He's all bark."

She tried to smile, but her lips felt like they would crack. "I was passing by a bedroom and saw a computer. I was wondering if you minded if I maybe checked my e-mail."

He laughed. "That's my kid's. We haven't had AOL in about 6 months. My guess is that we are cut off. Kid doesn't come around any more. Stays at his aunt's. Probably better this way, actually. The is house isn't exactly kid friendly these days."

"Mind if I play with it?"

"Knock yourself out, Sara." He smiled at her. In other circumstances, Sara imagined that she would probably like Blaine. But now, she was just grateful to see a friendly face.

She found her way into the bedroom and sat down at the computer. Access was dead, but the software was still installed. It took her three attempts, but finally she was able to remember the numbers of her credit card in the right order. Relief flooded through her when a browser screen came up. She went to Hotmail and developed a new account, She paused for a moment to really consider the next course of action, and then she slowly typed in Grissom's work address. It took her almost an hour, and she deleted many more things than she kept, but she finally had a message she was ready to send.

_Grissom,_

_I really need to talk to you, but I can't right now. I'm doing something pretty crazy, but you know that by now. Please tell Warrick that I am sorry. He deserved better from me._

_I should have talked to you before this. I was going to do that. I was going to quit. I wasn't doing my job, and people were having to compensate. I understand that now. I was going to tell you everything. But I got caught up in this thing that seems to have taken control of me. I want to find Viktor. I need to find Viktor. For Hannah and for me. I wish I had the time right now to explain everything I am trying to say to you._

_You mean so much to me, Grissom. I have never fully understood why, but it's the truth. If I could, I would be on the phone with you right now, getting advice. Hell, I would have you come pick me up. Make you buy me fish tacos at Stanley's._

_I won't tell you I'm safe right now. I'm not. I feel out of control, and I am learning the hard way that I am not as smart as I thought I was. But I feel that I am in a pretty good position to learn something about Viktor, and that's what seems to matter most right now._

_I don't know when I will talk to you next. I do know that the minute I know where Viktor is, I am going to find some way to contact you. I won't do anything crazy. Well, nothing more crazy than I already have. Really. I just want to find him. Then I want you guys here for all the heavy lifting. I promise._

_I need all your good thoughts right now, Grissom. I'm keeping my head above water right now, but I'm scared._

_I'm sorry for everything._

_Sara_

She wondered if she should have acknowledged her fear so actively in the letter. But she knew he would want her to be honest. And she desperately needed someone to know what she was feeling. With a chortle, she suddenly realized that she had reached that point that she and Grissom had talked about. She was ready to talk, ready to tell him everything. She had reached that point, and now there was no way to reach him. She read the letter a few more times and then hit 'send'. She leaned back in the chair. Just the acting of writing had brought her some small sense of relief.


	7. chapter 7

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing for entertainment purposes

Spoilers: No Humans Involved

It is still scary, but there will be sunshine in the next few days. I am still on track and can post one chapter a day. Your feedback has been wonderful, and it inspires me to keep going.

Sheila

**Chapter 7**

"Come on now. What are you busting my balls for, huh?" The bald man threw his hands up into the air. Overweight, with a madras shirt hanging over a faded pair of slacks, the man sat in the midst of junk, piles of junk. Around him were hundreds of vendors sitting among their extensive piles of junk. "You're spooking my customers."

Nick looked around the old drive-in parking lot. "Sorry, Bennie. Doesn't really look like your crap is in particularly high demand around here."

Warrick wore shades against the punishing Nevada sun. He stared silently at Bennie, arms folded stiffly across his chest. Bennie kept stealing worried glances at him.

"Listen, I barely know the guy." Bennie wiped a handkerchief across his brow.

"Three people say different. They say you and Sammy are like brothers."

"Right." Bennie shook his head. "This is a guy who would steal food from a starving child. What do I want with a creep like that?"

Warrick put his hands down flat on the rickety card table and leaned forward. "Bennie, you need to start talking to us right now. Do you understand?"

"Look, we hang out sometimes. Every once in a while, I get a hankering for some powder, and Sammy knows where all the treasure is buried. I don't do it much because I can't afford it."

"Last time you saw him?" Nick felt a small grin tug at one edge of his mouth as he watched Warrick stand point over Bennie.

"Two weeks ago. We went to a house. Scored some blow. Got high. Then we went home."

"Where, Bennie?"

"Somewhere out in the boonies. A subdivision called Hortense Point, I think. I can't remember anything else. Houses, brush, desert. Sort of a pit, really. Sammy drove and I was pretty wasted."

"You haven't been there before?"

Bennie shrugged. "Sammy goes to lots of different places."

Warrick allowed a slow smile. "Good job, Bennie. Now, we're going to sit down with a map, and you are going to start pointing at locations. Then you're going to take a ride with us, and point out houses for us."

"I can't leave my stuff."

Nick leaned forward. "It's okay, Bennie. One day is all we need. Tomorrow you can be back here setting the world on fire with your collection of junk."

"Will you reimburse me for time lost? This is a buyer's market you know."

"Right, Bennie. For that, we'll have you write a letter to our illustrious mayor. I'm sure he will get right on it."

……………………………….........................................................................................................................

Grissom read his screen again for third time. His hand pulled absently at his beard. With every word, he heard her voice inside his head. He could feel the emotion in every sentence. It was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his composure.

The e-mail would have to be shared. Others needed to see it. Read for things that he might overlook. He was reluctant to share as her letter felt very private to him, intimate even. Catherine would be the one he'd go to first. She was the best at reading people. Always seemed to know what was going on even before anyone had to say anything. Plus, she was the one he could most trust with his vulnerability.

He wanted to reach for the phone, but couldn't yet leave the e-mail. He read it one more time, and then hit reply.

……………………………….........................................................................................................................

Sara sat on the front steps, her knees drawn up to her chin, and tried to stop trembling. The heat of the midday sun on her bare arms did nothing to stop her shaking. A piece of paper was rolled up in her hand, but she was having some trouble ingesting the words. Everything was conspiring to overwhelm her: the drugs, lack of sleep, poor diet, dehydration, and the constant memories swirling around in her head.

Memories of her mother had come to visit her today. She remembered things she hadn't thought of in almost twenty years. A picture came to her of how her mother used to licked her lips with a faraway look in her eyes. Sara knew that her mom craved something that was more important to her than even her own daughter. Then her mother would disappear: two days or three. And when she would come back, she looked old and tired. Her bright, brown eyes would be hazy and unfocused. She would sleep day and night. Sara would wake her to eat, Kraft macaroni and cheese being the extent of her culinary repertoire at that age, but often couldn't keep her conscious through an entire meal. The first time, Sara saw the ugly, tortured veins in her mother's arms, she had screamed. She had tried to get to a phone and call an ambulance, but her mother's thin arms held her tightly. Her mother had rocked her that night, whispering 'I'm sorry' over and over into her ear. Even as a child, Sara knew that while her mother was sorry, she was also in the grips of something more powerful for her than the bond between a mother and daughter. Sara had listened to the whispered apologies that night, but knew that the words would not make any impact on her mother's behavior.

"Hi Sara." Sammy's voice broke her reverie.

She gave him a tight smile.

"Woke up and you were gone. I was worried."

"Yeah, about that, Sammy. I appreciate you scoring for me last night, but I am afraid that I don't reciprocate in trade. Understand?"

Sammy threw his arms up. "Hey! I thought you wanted a good time is all."

"Yeah, well, I'm just trying to hang onto to whatever remaining dignity I still have."

"You going to hang out here?"

"I thought I might catch a ride into the city with you."

"Sorry. No can do. The candy man is going to stop over here, and I'm going to need to do some business with him."

Sara felt an excitement rise up in her. "Who's that?"

"So now you're the one writing the book, huh?"

"No, it's just that the friend who sent me over to the lounge said I should look out for someone, a foreign guy named Viktor. She said that he could take care of everything for me."

"Well, darling, my guess is that his price is a little too steep for you."

"What does that mean?"

"The girls Viktor takes care of have to engage in some pretty hazardous duty in order to keep his attention. Doesn't sound like he would appeal to your prudish attitudes, shall we say."

"I see." Sara felt her face flush.

"But you still want to meet him, don't you?" Sammy had a strange look in his eye, his teeth were biting into his lower lip.

She could feel the fear strangling her heart. All she could manage in reply was a single nod.

Sammy smiled and jumped up. "Good! Happy to set that up for you. I'm sure Viktor will like the looks of you just fine."

When she was alone again, she remembered the paper in her hands. Embarrassment stabbed her gut when she realized that she had held it in full view of Sammy while he sat beside her. Being careful was becoming more and more complicated for her.

Looking around at the dusty yellow, front lawn, and behind her to the front door, she became satisfied that she was again alone. Slowly, she unraveled the piece of paper, and read again the message she found on e-mail just hours after she had opened the account.

The paper rattled in her shaky hands, and she fought to still them. She wanted to read it again, and try to make better sense of the words.

_Dear Sara,_

_I am so relieved to have this letter from you. It is the only confirmation I have that you are still with us._

_It pains me to read about the confusion and fear you are facing. I wish very much that I was there with you right now. I want to hear anything you want to tell me. I think now that I was too stern in holding you off when you tried to tell me your story earlier. I am very sorry for that._

_You are convinced that we are working around you here, but you need to know that your contribution to this lab is very valuable, and it is for this reason that your friends and I want to care for and support you. I'm glad you never had an opportunity to resign because it would have been a problem for me, and we would have fought about it._

_I understand that you are in the grips of something difficult right now. I respect that. But I am also desperate to make you understand that there are other ways to find Viktor, ways that don't risk your well being. I promise to work with you for however long it takes to bring him down. Everyone will do this for Hannah and for you. _

_Please Sara, call or write to me any information you have about your whereabouts. I know that I have been distant and distracted for some time now. And I see how that has left me oblivious to your feelings and how they have been impacting you and your work. For this, I am very sorry. I won't let you down like that again._

_Right now, I am speaking to you not as a colleague but as a badly frightened man who cares for you. Please let me help you. Let me bring you back here where you are safe and loved by many. _

_I will be waiting to hear from you._

_All of my love,_

_Grissom_

_P.S. I heard that Ecklie threatened to take you under his own supervision. This will not happen. I promise you._

She longed to just walk out to the highway, and hitchhike back to the city, but she didn't. she had committed too much of herself, and the promise of Viktor was becoming more and more imminent. The words in the e-mail both excited and confused her, and she wished she could concentrate well enough to better understand them. So she folded up the paper into a tight wad, and carefully slipped it into her shoe.

……………………………….......................................................................................................................

"Bennie, you are a regular pain in the ass." Brass was shaking his head at the man sitting in the back seat of the car with Nick.

"Okay, people. When I want to score, I am not all that concerned about street signs or addresses or architecture, you know?" Despite the air conditioning, sweat was gathering on his forehead.

"I am matching the general locations Bennie gave us with the actual addresses that Narcotics gave you. I have narrowed the possibilities down to 15 houses." Nick was struggling with a map and other paper. Short on space, he was using Bennie as a table. Bennie's earlier irritation with this had been silenced when Warrick had stopped the car, and turned around to stare at him with a grim look on his face.

"Okay, guys, fifteen is too many. Bennie, I swear to God. You pony up with something substantial in the next five minutes or Warrick here is going to do the Macarena on your face."

"Too much pressure like this and I can't think."

"Shut up, Bennie." Nick thrust the unused addresses into his arms.

Warrick looked over his shoulder at the panicked man.

"Okay, okay. One house was on the same street as a Popeye's. I remember because we walked down there once for some chicken."

"Which area?" Nick thrust the map at him. Bennie pointed. Nick nodded and leaned forward. "Got to get me a phone book, Jim. Need to find out where the Popeyes are in this area and match it with one of these addresses."

"Okay, can I go now?"

"Not a chance, doughboy. Gotta pull some more memories out of that thick head of yours." Brass gave Bennie a sinister wink.

"I'm hungry."

"Well, I bet you are. Make you a deal. You bring us to two more solid addresses, and I will supersize you at the McDonald's of your choice."

"Okay. About two months ago, we were at a place near 7th avenue. I remember 'cause there was a Subway on that street.. And it was maybe a two block walk from the house we were at. I remember that I got a 12 inch chicken Caesar with--"

"Brass, will you find me a damn phone book already?" Nick growled as he pushed more of the map on top of Bennie.

………………………………......................................................................................................................

"Wow," was all Catherine said when she first read the e-mail. Never taking her eyes off the page, she settled into a chair.

"I wrote back to her. You can see that one too if you need to." Grissom hovered nearby, watching her carefully.

Catherine looked up from the paper, and cocked her head at him. "We'll leave that one for just the two of you."

"What do you think?"

"She's a mess, Grissom. We need to find her now."

"Anything in there you think we can use?"

"I don't know, Griss. Give me a minute."

"So do you see the part where she says she's scared, and then up here, she mentions how out of control she feels, and--" He was gesturing at things over her shoulder.

Catherine used her elbow to bat his arms away. "Knock it off. I need some space, okay? Check your e-mail again or something."

"I just checked it fifteen minutes ago."

"Well, you never know when another one is coming. The point here is that you need to get the hell away from me so I can concentrate."

Grissom nodded and wandered back to his desk. He settled in and pulled up his mail again. New mail symbol flashed at him. Letting out a deep breath, he pulled it up. Another missive form HelpHannah stared back at him. It was only a few words, but a chill shuddered through his body.

_Hi,_

_Thanks for writing me so quickly. Your words are what's keeping me going right now. Almost set out for the highway after I read it, but then I found out that Viktor was coming. Sammy says he will do an introduction. I will mail as soon as I see him. Don't want to risk giving you the address now, and then having you show up too early. Sorry. _

_I'm not feeling so good so believe me when I say that I will be wasting no time calling in the cavalry once he shows up._

_I really need you right now. Stay close to your computer. Please._

_Love, _

_Sara_

"Griss? You got something?" Catherine noticed the shock look on his eyes.

He nodded slowly. Blinking hard, he reached over and swiveled the screen in her direction.

"Shit!" was the only analysis he got from his old friend.

………………………………..................................................................................................................

"We have four maybe five places we need to hit."

"Come on, Jim. I told you three."

"Bob, right now, I don't give a shit what we talked about five hours ago. We've been getting e-mails from her. She's in a world of hurt and we need to find her."

"Wow. Virtual suffering. Ain't technology a bitch?"

"Yeah, whatever. I need your people now."

"They'll be ready within an hour. Meet us at the fifth precinct."

"Thanks, Bob."

A dial tone sounded in his ear, and Brass turned to Warrick. "It's on. We need to get to the fifth precinct.

Warrick executed a sharp u-turn at the light and speeded up.

"Hey, what about me?" Bennie was covered in maps and sheets of paper as Nick now worked to triangulate the locations.

"What about you, Bennie?"

"I'm hungry, remember."

"Yeah, Bennie. Your appetite is right there at the top of my agenda." Brass kept his eyes on the road ahead.

"There's a McDonald's coming up in, like, two blocks."

"Come on Brass," Nick joined in. "If you don't want to do it for him. Do it for me. I'm dying back here."

Brass let out a sigh. "Pull over, 'Rick." He turned around and flipped a five dollar bill onto Bennie's lap.

"I'm going to need dessert too."

Brass rolled his eyes and threw another five in the same direction.

"This is like five miles from my house. Are you guys going to wait for me? You know, so I can get a ride home."

Warrick turned his head to look at Bennie, dark shades and all. "Bennie, you could use the exercise. You know what I mean."

Bennie looked at Warrick and swallowed hard. "Yeah, man, I do. Um, thanks for everything." Bennie scrambled out the door like a bat out of hell.

"Aw, jeez, Bennie." Nick threw his hands up as maps and other paper fluttered about the back seat in the wake of his escape. "And I had a system and everything going on back here."

………………………………......................................................................................................................

TBC


	8. chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not my characters, but they are so wonderful to play with.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Some of the feedback I have gotten indicates that beside the extreme nature of the story, people still find our CSI's are staying within character to a large degree. That is tremendous feedback. I got home late tonight and missed CSI. Did I miss any good Sara/Grissom moments?

Sheila

**Chapter 8**

Viktor was a big man with unruly hair that fell in his eyes. Under the hair was a red, meaty face. He wore a long, black leather jacket even though the temperature was probably in the 80's. He swaggered about the room as if he was in his own house. Two large men had followed him in the house, and now they stood against the wall, shades still secured on their faces. The room echoed with his large voice, laughing at strung out addicts sunk into chairs, and making crude remarks in his broken English.

When he saw her, he stopped. She sat low in the broken couch, and struggled to sit up as he loomed above her.

"Pretty girl!" He announced. "Who is she?" He turned to others in the room.

"I'm Sara." she said. Viktor ignored her.

Sammy stepped up. "I found her. She wanted to meet you."

"Really!" He whirled around to stare at her. "Just meeting her this week for the first time, huh? And she wants old Viktor, does she?"

Sammy nodded cautiously.

"Where?" He continued to stare at her. Sara struggled to keep her composure.

"Found her at the Oasis."

Viktor turned around to glare at Sammy. "Oasis is hot, Sammy. You too stupid to know that? Police look for me there. And now, all of a sudden, a new, strange girl comes, and you think to bring her right to Viktor."

"Well, it's wasn't like that. I just found out that she wanted to meet you today."

"You are idiot man. You know that?"

I'm not…I just wanted a new connection." Sara said. Viktor was still looking at Sammy. Without turning his head, he put up a hand to silence her.

"This is not over, Sammy. We will talk, you and I."

"Listen, if this is not comfortable for you, I can go. I didn't mean to cause any trouble." Sara pushed herself up.

Lightening fast, he pushed her hard, and she fell back onto the couch. "Don't move, pretty, police girl."

"I'm not---"

"Shut up!" He pointed a large finger at her face.

She leaned her face away from his hand.

"So you want to know Viktor, huh?" His ugly, broad mouth broke into a smile revealing a nightmare of bad teeth within. "This can be arranged, I think. You want some blow?"

"No, I am just fine." She struggled to keep her voice even.

"No, baby. You are tense. This is not good." He turned to Sammy and underhanded a small packet of powder across the room at him. "Relax her, Sammy, okay?"

Sammy held the powder, his eyes never leaving Viktor, and pulled his works out of his jacket. He gestured at Blaine, but the tall, blonde man shook his head slowly. Viktor rolled his eyes, and motioned at one of his large men. The man nodded once and stepped forward. With shaky hands, Sammy filled the syringe.

Sara's eyes filled with tears, but she held herself in check. She looked around the room looking for an option. The hallway to the back bedroom, and she prepared to catapult herself off the couch and down the hall. She was up in an instant, but ran right into the arms of Viktor. The man laughed heartily, his arms pulled tightly around her middle, and then leaned back, falling onto the couch, Sara landing on top of him.

"I got her, Sammy. Bring it over." Viktor struggled to contain her wild arms.

Sammy brought the filled syringe over and kneeled on the couch beside them.

"Not too much. I want pretty girl to enjoy the fun."

Sara screamed as the needle sank into her skin.

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"You are not going in on this next raid, and that's final." Brass glanced over at Grissom as he made this announcement.

Grissom ignored him, staring through the windshield of the racing SUV.

"You don't seem to understand that we have to secure the property before we look for Sara."

Catherine reached up from the back seat and nudged him. "Listen to him, Gil."

"You guys secure the house, and I'll look for Sara." Grissom spoke quietly.

"You are getting in the way." Brass wheeled the truck to the left, following a small caravan of police cars and other vehicles as the sped down the wet black top of the strip. "You act like you don't have to pay attention to anything but finding her. It's a freakin' drug house, Gil. These are not stable people."

"I don't want her to get hurt in the raid." His quiet voice betrayed an emotional intensity.

Brass let out a deep breath. "Me neither, Gil. Me neither. Just do me a favor, and stay with me at this next house. We'll stay out of the way of the Narcotics squad, and look for her together. Okay?" Brass stole another glance at his old friend.

Grissom closed his eyes and nodded.

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Sara struggled against her confinement. Walls were everywhere. She pushed and kicked at them, but they wouldn't move. Sometimes, she felt them expanding and other times, she felt them jerk and jump. There were voices that moved above her, sometimes sweeping down and rushing around her face. She reached up to pull the their words from the dark, still air, but they were fast and always changing.

She tried to organize her thoughts, but they constantly swam away from her. She wanted to be sharp, smart for Viktor and Grissom. The two of them, one and the same, kind and cruel together in the same package. Their faces were one face, brown eyes and blue, silver hair and greasy, long locks. They were so demanding, so insistent, so cruel. Their voices were constant. She was pretty. And then they wanted to listen, and then they wanted to hurt her badly as had been done before in the dusty attic of her mind.

And so she tried to run, but her feet found no purchase, forcing her to run on her arms. For awhile, they ran alongside, but she yelled at them to leave her alone, and they stopped. On she ran through the darkness and the heat until all was quiet. She stopped and let her breathing settle. As soon as she was calm, she closed her eyes. But then the laughter started again, and she felt the stench of his ugly mouth breathing on her neck. She turned into his face and screamed.

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_Drug raids are loud, frighteningly so. Doors are forced and high beam flashlights stabbing at the dark as cops piled through the door. Men shout commands over and over, on top of one another, male aggression at its pinnacle. Doors are kicked with boots, and guns trained on anything that moved. Commands to lay down, hands up, face to the floor are screamed to any and all inhabitants. _

_There is the sound of breaking glass, and the shouting shifts to the back of the house where the sounds of struggle emerge._

_Behind the squad come the CSIs walking into the house, soft moonlight illuminating their forms from the open front door. Their guns are trained as well, but they are silent, working flashlights in the other hand, spotlighting the faces of frightened people hugging the floor._

_Grissom closes his eyes and wishes for the next face to be hers, much like he used to wish for his dad to return home so many years ago. But all of the faces are ghosts of a different sort, people who had lost sight of their lives, content to survive solely for the sake of a drug._

_Every face is a tortured one, but none of them are Sara's. In his gut, he knows that she isn't here. He believes he would feel her if she was. He leans against the wall to steady himself against the wave of fear that sweeps over him._

_The Lieutenant Monroe sweeps by them shouting commands into his walkie talkie, following the voices to the back of the house. More struggling, and then a handcuffed man is pushed down the hallway toward them. He keeps his face lowered as he enters their space, but it doesn't help him. Warrick moves in, and pulls his face up. He drags him by the nape of his neck over to Grissom and Brass. _

"_This is Sammy," he announces to all who are gathered._

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Sammy sat on the bed uncomfortably, his hands bound behind him. Around him was a collection of people he didn't know, save the tall, black man. They stared at him with hard faces. He could tell they weren't cops, and this left him confused. "I don't know anything." He said for the third time.

"New rule, Sammy. You say something like that again, and I get to accidentally kick you in the privates." Brass paced in front of him like an angry bulldog.

"I can't help you."

"Right. I don't have the patience for this, and Sara doesn't have the time." Brass turned to survey his colleagues. 'Rick, I know you and Sammy are old friends. Got any ideas?"

"Yeah. Give Sammy and I a couple of minutes alone. I think together, he and I can scare up some information on Sara." Warrick stood stoic, his arms folded across his chest. Catherine, standing next to him, gave him a startled look.

Brass raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? There could be consequences."

"Fuck the consequences, Jim." Warrick's eyes were trained on Sammy who attempted to lean away from him.

Grissom had been standing silently through this exchange. He closed his eyes once he heard Warrick's proposal and let out a sigh. Then he walked over to Greg who stood in the corner, eyes wide. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he gestured with his head. Quietly, he exited the room, the young man trailing after him.

"Alright, 'Rick, I'm going to give you a few minutes. I will be right outside the door in case you need anything." He patted him on the back.

"Wait!" Sammy called to him, but Brass didn't stop or even turn his head to acknowledge the junkie.

Catherine slipped her hand into Warrick's and squeezed hard. She nodded at him, and then let her hand slip away. He turned to say something to her, but she was already out the door.

The door closed, but Warrick could still sense that he was not alone with Sammy. Nick stood behind him, leaning against the wall.

Warrick let out a deep sigh and turned to his friend. "Listen Nicky, don't try to talk me out of anything. You and I both know that Sara doesn't have the time."

Nick narrowed his eyes. "Hey man, I'm just here to hold him down for you."

Warrick let a smile grow. "Thanks, buddy."

"Guys, come on. You don't understand. A guy like Viktor would kill me as soon as look at me. It's suicide if I talk." Sammy begin to whine.

Warrick shook his head. "This is the crap we don't have time for, Sammy. You're not giving us any choice but to show you that we are every bit as unpleasant as Viktor is."

He and Nick closed in on Sammy.

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Brass winced every time he heard a moan or a shout. He leaned against the door so he could glean other noises as well. The snatches of conversation he heard told him that Sammy was becoming a great deal more talkative than he had been earlier.

"What the hell's going on here?"

Startled, Brass looked up to find Detective Monroe looking down at him.

Brass shrugged. "Just a little interrogation is all."

"You telling me that your crime scene investigators, the lab guys, are in there roughing up a perp."

"My CSI's are very versatile, well-rounded individuals, Bob."

"Brass, I swear to God, if you make me look bad, I am going to come down on you like a pile of bricks."

Jim had his hands out trying to calm his colleague. "Bob, come on now. Don't be such a girl. We're just stimulating him. Nothing serious."

"You think the Russian's got her?"

"Yup. And he's a bastard out of hell, Bob. Just think of that little girl you guys found in the closet a week ago."

A young deputy appeared down the hall with a confused look on his face. He seemed to be straining to hear sounds coming out of the wall next to him. Lieutenant Monroe spied him. "Hey you! Get the hell away from that wall. Go help Watkins get our junkies processed or something. Go! Now!" The startled deputy ran from the hall. Monroe folded his arms and leaned against the door next to Brass.

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Grissom stood on the highway facing west. Behind him the sun was beginning to rise. Tire treads led him to this spot. In the distance, all he could see was desert: rolling hills and brush. Nothing moved, and he wondered how he could possibly find her in the vastness of it all.

Someone coughed behind him, and he turned. Greg stood there with a large state map. "If he was going back to Vegas, he would have wanted to go east.

Grissom nodded. "She could be anywhere out there. Out of county. Out of state. We probably need to pull in the feds. I don't even know where we start." He returned his gaze to the west; light softly rising up with the dawn.

His flat tone startled Greg. He stood behind Grissom silently for a moment studying the map. Then something caught his eye.

"Hey Griss. Wait a minute. Look here. This county road intersects with interstate 95 going south. Do you see?"

Greg spread the map out in front of Grissom. "Interstate 95 goes straight into the Northwest part of Vegas. Do you remember what Nick said? I don't have his map here, but I remember him saying that there were a whole of collection of known drug addresses around Severence lane right off the highway."

Grissom pulled off his shades. "It makes sense he wouldn't want to stay on the highway too long."

"Exactly." Greg nodded. "Why don't I get those addresses?" He ran off without waiting for a response.

Grissom looked around and gestured at a deputy standing nearby. The deputy tipped his hat and ambled over.

"Officer, I need a couple of squads right away."

Deputy shook his head. "Sorry, Sir. I only take orders from the lieutenant."

Grissom looked around wildly for some support. From the house, Catherine was jogging in his direction.

"Catherine!" He called. "We need to get back to Vegas; Northwest quadrant…ah, the Severence lane area right off of 95."

She reached him, a smile playing lightly on her face. "How do I never get to surprise you with anything?"

"What?" Grissom tensed.

"Viktor has an old girlfriend lives right off interstate 95 near Severence. Sammy gave it up."

"God help me, Catherine. That's where she is." He gestured at the officer. "And the deputy here won't give me any squads."

Catherine looked over at the young man and pointed a finger. "Listen Scooter. You better get on the horn right now. Your lieutenant's going to wonder why the hell you're standing around with your finger up your nose while someone, one of our own I might add, has been kidnapped."

The deputy jumped and pulled his radio receiver off his shoulder. He started making noises, while running back to the house. Grissom grabbed Catherine's arm and trotted after him.

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Nick was bringing Sammy out the front door when Grissom and Catherine got there. They went over to Warrick who was standing alone in the front yard.

"You okay?" Grissom put on a hand on his arm.

Warrick chuckled. "Yeah. Don't worry. Sammy has a low pain threshold. He capitulated almost immediately. Mostly, we made a lot of noise threatening him and slamming things against the wall. We're big friends now. Sammy wants us to come and visit him in the klink. He thinks we are now responsible to keep him alive."

When Sammy and Nick walked past Warrick, Sammy stopped and waved. Warrick rolled his eyes and looked away. Snippets of Sammy's conversation with Nick floated back as they passed.

"So I was a gentleman the whole time with your friend. Right? I mean, I think she kind of wanted to you know, but I said to myself, 'no, Sammy, you really don't know this girl', right? "Cause there's diseases everywhere, you know. And then---"

"Give me a frickin' break, Sammy. Okay? Get in the car." Nicky shoved him in the open door of the squad, forgetting to lower his head as he did this. A shrill 'Ouch!' alerted him to his, but the grin on Nick's face conveyed the truth about his forgetfulness.

Nick walked back toward his friends with Sammy leaning his head out the window, continuing the conversation with his retreating back. "I'm ready." he said when he reached them.

Warrick gestured with his head. "Brass is in the truck. He and Monroe are organizing this thing. Sammy didn't have an exact address for the girlfriend so we're going to have to improvise."

Nick nodded, then he reached over and patted Grissom on the shoulder. "We're going to get this done, Boss. It's going to be okay. You hear?"

Grissom acknowledged him with a tight grin, but couldn't meet his eyes. Unable to respond, he headed off in search of Brass. Catherine shook her head slowly at her friends, her eyes soft and red, and took off after him.

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TBC


	9. chapter 9

Disclaimer: Not mine, but found them unattended.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Chapter 8 was intense. Didn't get so much feedback. Hope you are all hanging in there. There are many chapters to go yet, and I am still writing 3 chapters ahead of what I post. Thanks to those of you who have followed this story through its entire journey thus far.

Sheila

Chapter 9

The morning sun hit Sara's face like a laser. She blinked wildly, and tried to organize the bright lights in her face. Before her eyes could focus, strong arms reached down and jerked her out of the trunk. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and she would have fallen if not for the two men dragging her away from the car. She was on a driveway in front of a house. It looked like one of the many identical neighborhoods in the Vegas suburbs. The events of last few hours were falling into place in her mind, and a stab of fear gripped her. She struggled against the men holding her, but she wasn't strong enough to make an impression. Viktor opened the front door to the house, and beckoned wildly to them.

Her feet dragged as they pulled her up the front steps. They pulled her into a living room, hazy dark with all of the shades pulled. A woman was standing there in a bathrobe with a child perched on her hip. She had long, curly hair falling down her back, and Sara could tell she was upset. Viktor was moving through the house, pushing doors open and looking inside.

The woman looked Sara up and down, and then started yelling at Viktor. "I'm not putting up one of your junkie whores, Viktor, you hear me?"

Viktor ignored her. He had disappeared into the laundry room, and was ripping out a phone line. The child start squealing and struggling against his mother's hip. Viktor popped his head back into the room and started cooing at the child, talking to him in Russian. Then he looked at the woman.

"How is my son?" He came up to the child, and started to tickle him. The child grabbed at his mother and started to cry.

"Stop it, Viktor."

"Why does he cry? What do you say to him, Dolly?" He fixed her with a suspicious glare.

"Oh, for Christ's sake. You hardly ever see him. Can you blame him?" She jerked the child away from his grasp.

He pointed a finger in her face. "I blame you."

"Right, 'cause I've been sitting him down to a series of anti-Viktor seminars. Idiot! He's 8 months old!" Despite her defiance, she backed away from him.

"We going to put this girl in your laundry room for a little time." Viktor gestured at Sara.

"No way, Viktor. I am not a detox for your whores."

Sara was amazed as this somewhat domestic conversation went on in front of her. She wondered if she could stay on her feet if the men weren't holding her, and worried that the truth of it would show that she was unable to escape.

"She a cop, Dolly."

"Oh, shit, Viktor. How the hell could you bring her here? This is your son's home. No way. Get her out! You promised you wouldn't bring trouble into this house."

"No choice." He shrugged.

"You promised that you would keep us out of your business. Dammit, Viktor!"

He was fast. In a second, he had a hand on her throat. The child wailed. "Shut it, Dolly. If something happens to Viktor, you lose your big suburban wet dream. You hear me? On the streets. Maybe you go back to dancing, no? I don't think so. I have seen your stretch marks. You are good for nothing but a street corner. You ready for that, my sweet girl?"

She shook her head, a look of terror stamped on her face. He smiled at her and let go. Choking and gasping, she bent over, letting the child slide to the floor. He turned to the two men and Sara.

"Put her in the laundry room. I need to make a couple of phone calls before we have our party." He reached over and lightly slapped her cheek. "You ready to party, pretty police girl."

Sara's face burned. She didn't respond, but couldn't stop the tears form sliding down her face. With his meaty thumb, he wiped them off her cheek, and smiled at her displaying his yellowed, jagged teeth. Then he gestured at his goons. They pulled her over to the room, and shoved her through. She fell against a counter and slid to the floor as the door slammed behind her.

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The sun beat down on them as they gathered at the city park. Brass insisted on the CSI's in addition to the five plain clothes deputies. The energy in the group was electric. Grissom could barely contain himself enough to focus on the proceedings. His colleagues were even less calm. Nick paced the outskirts of the group like a caged animal while Greg kicked tufts of grass and soil out of the ground.

"Okay, people, our informant doesn't know an address. He only knows that Viktor has an ex named Dolly that lives within walking distance of this park. Our informant knows this because they did a deal in this park once, and Viktor walked back to the house." Brass rotated as he spoke making sure he was able to eye every person around him.

"We have the drug addresses. Let's bust them all." This came from a large deputy wearing a muscle shirt and a goatee.

"Not an option." Monroe spoke up. "We don't want to tip our hand. Besides, we are not at all sure Dolly would be a drug address. Our guess is that Viktor tries to keep the riff raff away from her. Our informant says that she has mothered a son for Viktor, and that he has been very excited about this. Says he bought her a house special for this."

"Our plan is this. In teams of two, you will each be given a neighborhood. We want you to knock on doors, and ask if anyone knows a Dolly. Tell them you found a monogrammed purse, expensive, in the park with her name on it, and you want to return to her."

Nick threw his hands up in the air. "You're kidding. This is our big plan. This could take all day."

Brass stepped forward. "It's the best we've got. If you get information pointing at a house, we regroup immediately. Understood?"

"Brass and I are going to keep a command post here at the park. We're going to need someone to run our maps here. Any takers?" Monroe held up an array of maps.

Greg stepped forward and took the maps

Monroe clapped his hands together soundly. "Good! Get your partner. Take a map. Brass has street assignments for you. We stay in radio contact. Any development should be called in immediately. Okay!"

Warrick grabbed a map, and nodded at Nick. They went off in search of a street assignment.

Catherine walked up to Grissom, map in hand. "Ready?"

"I can't seem to concentrate, Cath. I don't know if I can hold it together." He had taken his glasses off, and was wiping them on his shirt. He couldn't raise his eyes to hers.

She put a hand on his arm. "I can't even remember the last time we slept. Can you? We're running on fumes right now." She shrugged. "We don't have any choice, do we?"

He perched his glasses back on his nose. His eyes looked tired and red. "Right. You're right."

She put her arm through his. "Let's go, okay?"

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Sara pulled herself up on the washing machine. Standing, she let go. She was wobbly, but able to stay on her feet. Her legs were shaking and weak. A combination of the drugs, dehydration, exhaustion, and hunger had turned her into something of an invalid. Dizziness overtook her and she clung to the machine. She was both sweating, and chilled at the same time. She placed the back of her hand to her forehead, and was surprised at the damp heat she found there. She wondered if the fever was from the drugs or a virus or, worst case scenario, a dirty needle.

She slumped back to the floor and realized that even if she could get out of the room, she would never be able to outrun her attackers. Tears stung her eyes as the hopelessness of her situation became clear. Sobs escaped, and, for a time, she gave into her terror.

But lying on the floor waiting for something bad to happen was not Sara's style. She stopped herself after a few minutes, and pulled herself up onto her knees. She decided that she needed to know her resources. She pulled herself back to her feet, and started searching drawers. In the third drawer she searched, she hit pay dirt. She found a sharp pair of scissors. "Yes!" she whispered. She tucked into her jeans, and continued her search. Unfortunately, the drawers were largely empty, and found nothing else that was promising. She sank back to the ground, and considered her find. A scissors would definitely be helpful, but it wasn't enough to get through three men and an angry, ex girlfriend.

"Think, Sara!" She hissed at herself. There had to be something she could do that would make a difference. She saw a basket of dirty laundry beside her, and wondered what she could do with that. She turned over the basket, dropping clothes to the floor. A surprising clank sounded as the clothes spilled. Frantically, she shifted through the laundry, and at the bottom, she found keys on a key chain. She whimpered in relief.

Sitting back, she studied her find. There was a Honda key, and several other keys. The amazing part was that they were labeled carefully in small, neatly penned stickers. Rifling through them, she found a key clearly labeled, 'laundry room'.

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"I got an address! I got an address!" The voice exploded over the radio. Grissom stopped dead, and put the radio to his ear.

Brass' voice jumped in. "Deputy, what is your location? Over."

"I am at 1134 Tyler, and the home owner says Dolly's boy goes to the same daycare. Gave me the address off a list that the provider hands out in case of emergency."

"What's the address?"

"1254 N. Sugarhill Lane."

"Okay. Everyone rendezvous at the corner of…Greg! Find me a damn corner…ah, Fox and Karden in 2 minutes. Over."

Catherine listened in at Grissom's ear. She pulled out the map and quickly pinpointed the spot. Pointing ahead, she started running down the middle of the street. Grissom took off after her.

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Sara tried to formulate a plan, but it was hard to concentrate. Outside the room, she heard T.V. noises and the sounds of shouting, guttural sounds, not English. She wanted to wait until she could think more clearly, but she knew that they could be at the door at any moment, and, if she was still there when that happened, it really didn't matter what keys she had in her hand.

She turned the key in the lock, and eased the door open a few inches. She winced, waiting for Viktor or his thugs to just barge through on top of her. There was no change in the noises she heard. She peeked out, and found the hallway empty. It was hard to pinpoint what part of the house Viktor was yelling from. To her right was the kitchen and the living room, and to the left was a hallway leading to what she presumed were bedrooms. The door squeaked a little and she froze. She waited, but again nothing happened. Carefully, she closed the door and locked it, hoping that they would not notice her absence.

Sara reasoned that if she could get to the door, and out to the car, she had a chance of driving away before they could catch her. The trick was to be able to get past the doorway to the living room where the goons sat, and through the kitchen. Hugging the wall, she eased her way along until she got to the open doorway to the living room. She took a deep breath, and eased her head around the doorframe. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two large men focused on the T.V. Viktor was pacing in front of them, yelling into a cell phone. She didn't know how to time this. There was no way to coordinate where all three of them would be looking at the same time. She was going to have to take her chances, and sneak past the door. The risk was tremendous, and she worried that her terror would overwhelm her. But she willed herself to act. Just as she was going to rush past, Viktor spoke in English:

"Eggs! I have not eaten today. Tell Dolly to make me eggs."

She heard the sticky sounds of a man pulling himself off a leather couch.

No! Wait! I don't want her out here. You make me eggs."

"How do you like 'em?"

"With the soft middle. Go!"

Sara turned around. He was going to be passing by her in seconds. The laundry room was not an option. It would take too long to open. She slid rapidly along the wall, trying to make it to the first bedroom. She didn't even look back to see if he was there. At the first door she hit, she turned the handle stiffly and backed into the room. She then carefully closed the door. A click sounded and she jumped.

"What are you doing here?" came a voice behind her. She whirled herself around to find that she was in the nursery, and there Dolly sat with the baby in a rocking chair.

Sara pulled the scissors from her pants and shifted away from the door. Her limbs trembled, and her hair plastered itself onto her sweaty face.

"Going to do something with that?" Dolly watched the scissors.

Sara licked her lips. She wanted to be able to reach over and grab the woman, scissors to her neck, in order to ensure her cooperation. But there lay the baby, cheeks rosy pink, nestled in his mother's arms; the only real innocent in the entire house. She couldn't do it. She was weak, and if they struggled with the scissors, the baby would be in the way. In exasperation, she sagged against a corner and sank down to the floor. Wiping the hair away from her face with her free hand, she could think of nothing to do but look at the woman and whisper, "please."

Down the hall, a voice erupted, and Sara stiffened. "Dolly, did your door open? Stupid here says he saw your door close. Do you want to make trouble with me?"

Sara closed her eyes. There were no options left. She could barely make it to her feet, let alone fight several people and then escape. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob and waited.

Dolly stared at her intently.

"Dolly! Don't make me come to you!"

Dolly let out a deep breath. "Viktor!"

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	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Not mine. They are the property of CBS.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

I want to say thank you for the wonderful feedback I have been receiving. The story will be moving into a new direction soon. As I am trying to keep them in character, the later chapters are difficult as I am trying to successfully negotiate some GSR without jumping the shark.

Hope to keep you with me,

Sheila

**Chapter 10**

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"Viktor!" Dolly yelled again. "I want that bitch out of the laundry room in one hour, do you hear me?"

"Shut up, Dolly. You open that door again, and I'm going to pound you!"

Dolly dropped her head back and closed her eyes. Sara watched her, breathless. Dolly was changing the rules, and Sara didn't even know the game.

The woman finally pulled her head up. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. "He's going to kill me one of these days. And I'm tired of holding my breath. I can't take it anymore."

Sara nodded. Dolly got up and put the baby carefully in his crib. Then she turned to Sara. "I got a ton of laundry in the closet here. Let's pull it out and bury you underneath."

Sara crawled over to the closet, and helped her take dirty, baby clothes out of the closet. The sharp smell of dirty diapers didn't even register for her. She crawled into the corner, and let Dolly pile clothes on her. Finally, only her face showed.

"Okay," Dolly said. "He discovers you are missing, and I play dumb. When he starts running around the neighborhood with his head cut off, I sneak you out the back. Got it?"

"Thank you." Sara tried to put her heart into those simple words.

Dolly smiled. "Idiot thinks I only know how to whore. Next week, I get my real estate license, and a job at an realty office downtown. I'm going to show that bastard just who needs who."

All of sudden, bellowing erupted down the hall. Sara grimaced. "He knows I'm gone."

Dolly started throwing more diapers on top of her. "Lay down!" She hissed.

Sara crouched helpless in the corner of the bedroom closet. Images of Hannah curled up like this came to her. She wondered if what happened next would be another thing that she and Hannah had in common. The screaming and yelling filled the house. Doors were opened and then slammed. Furniture was pushed over. Sara clutched the scissors tight against her thigh.

Then she felt the bedroom door fly open. She held her breath. The sound of feet pounding into the room. Then a scream, and Viktor yelling. "Bitch, tell me where she is."

There was choking and then, "Stop it, Viktor. I don't know anything! Please!"

Sara shifted under the clothes. She prepared herself to jump. Leaving Dolly to this monster was not an option. If this was going to be her last act, she was going to do it right.

"Vikt--" She heard something fall to the ground.

"Lay there, Bitch. I finish with you when I find the other whore." The terrible sound of him disappeared down the hall.

Sara crawled out of the closet, and headed to Dolly. The woman lay sprawled on the ground. An image of her mother blinked in her eyes, but she squeezed them shut and kept crawling. She put her hand over Dolly to feel for air. Her hand were too sweaty to register. She ran her hand down her arm until she found a wrist. Pushing firmly, she felt for a pulse. A solid beat pounded against her thumb. She let out a sigh of relief. She sat back on her knees for a moment. Behind her, she heard a noise. Wheeling around, she found Viktor standing in the doorway, arms folded, a grin stretching his face. She gasped and pedaled backward until she hit the wall.

Viktor laughed. "Pretty girl. You are so crafty. Why? You don't want to miss the party, do you?"

Sara blinked and looked about the room. The baby had woken, and was trying to pull himself up by the bars of his crib. She wondered how much the boy was going to understand about the atrocities happening around him..

Viktor leaped forward suddenly, and grabbed her arm. He pulled her to her feet. She resisted, but he jerked her forward. In an instant, her hand appeared, and she stabbed Viktor in the chest with her scissors. He howled, and dropped her, stumbling backward, the scissors sticking out of his chest. Viktor swayed against the doorframe, blocking her way out of the room. She willed him to fall, but instead he steadied himself, and then reached over and pulled the implement from his chest. This set off more yowling. In frustration, he threw the scissors against the wall to her left. She watched the scissors, and prepared to lunge. Viktor came barreling at her. He picked her up and slammed her to the ground. Everything went dark for a moment, and she struggled to stay lucid. She was on her stomach now, and Viktor had crawled on top of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the scissors and reached out her arm. Strained, her arm still stopped short of the prize.

Viktor saw her arm stretch and laughed. "So you want to feel the cold steel. Okay, whore." His long arm reached beyond her, and scooped the scissors. He straddled her back and held her down. For a moment, neither moved. There was only the sounds of their labored breathing.

"Ready?" She felt his body lunge upward as his arm stretched. She closed her eyes and waited for the explosion of pain. A loud noise erupted, and Viktor fell on top of her. She felt her life slide away from her.

……………………………….......................................................................................................................

Grissom stepped back as a spray of red splattered the room. For the first time, Blood spatter patterns moved beyond the theoretical. Nothing moved. He wasn't sure if he could make out 2 or 3 bodies. Most prominent was the large man lying in front of him. A large portion of his brain matter littered the ground around him. Suddenly, he felt the warmth of the gun in his hand. He regarded it with curiosity. Then he returned his attention to the scene. There was definitely a form beneath the man. An outstretched hand caught his attention. The long, slim fingers, nails cut close. It was Sara's hand, and it didn't move. He let out something that sounded like a whimper. He took a step forward, and felt the room turn. He back stepped to catch his balance, and his legs folded beneath him. He landed in a sitting position with a thump. He turned his head, and found someone standing beside him. Brass lowered his gun, and blinked.

"Is she under there?"

Grissom shook his head. "I can't…."

"It's okay." Catherine moved past both of them. She knelt next to the exploded man, and reached for Sara's hand. She picked it up gently and held. And she turned her head, her eyes moist, and smiled.

"It's weak, but she's got a good rhythm."

Grissom tried to return the gesture, but his face felt numb. He wanted to get up and help, get the ugly corpse off of her, but he felt completely devoid of strength. It seemed all he could do to keep his head upright. Brass knelt beside him, and carefully put his fingers around the gun. He nodded at Grissom, and slowly coaxed the gun out of his hand.

The room was crowded now. Warrick stepped around him delicately, pausing to squeeze his shoulder. Nicky positioned himself on the other side of the corpse. A discussion began, but it felt hollow and distant. Grissom watched with a detached interest as Catherine organized the scene. Brass began arguing with people out in the hallway who wanted to come in. Lieutenant Monroe leaned in and gestured to Grissom. Brass reached over and pulled him back into the hall. He blinked at them, and then returned his attention to his CSI's.

Grunting, Warrick and Nick lifted the big man, and moved him to the side. The body crumpled to the ground. There was another noise, unexpected, and Nick moved toward it. Grissom focused his attention on Sara's body. He questioned Catherine's conclusions. Sara looked deathly still. He felt a chill run down his spine. He mumbled something about his doubts, trying to get Catherine's attention. Her head came up, and she assured him that Sara was okay. He furled his brow, reasoning that a healthy person would be able to get up by now. He thought about challenging her again, but she was no longer paying him any attention.

Catherine started barking commands, and people starting shifting out into the hallway including Warrick and Nick. Grissom wondered where Nick acquired the baby he carried in his arms. Paramedics swarmed in, carrying their large boxes of equipment. Without ceremony, they pushed him back and unpacked their gear. Grissom felt hands pull him to his feet, and he was led out of the room.

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TBC


	11. chapter 11

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS

Thanks for the support. It means alot. I know the last two chapters were short. I will try to compensate with this one. We are tranistioning into the second half of the story. Hope it continues to hold your attention.

Sheila

**Chapter 11**

"Hey!" Catherine leaned over her face and grinned. "You are one lucky girl."

Sara's eyes looked around her. There were people everywhere, paramedics were leaning over her, while deputies and others milled about behind them. She wondered when they had all arrived. Her eyes blinked as her memories began to return. Fear, confusion, and Viktor. Large, mean Viktor grinning into her face and promising her pain and terror. For a moment, she surveyed the room for him, and felt relieved to have this many people between him and her.

She returned her eyes to Catherine. "Viktor?"

Catherine's smile faded. "He's gone, Sara. You're safe."

"Dead?"

"Yeah."

"And Dolly and her baby?"

"Dolly has a concussion, and the baby's okay. They are both on their way to Cedars."

There was another person's location she wondered about, but couldn't formulate the question as she considered the implications of Catherine's news. Viktor was gone. He would never hurt another Hannah again. She wanted that to make her feel fresh and new, but the reality was far too complex for that. Around her, she saw the chaos and commotion she had brought to her life and the lives of those who were her friends. Dead and injured people. A crime scene. And friends who undoubtedly suffered.

"I was stupid, Catherine."

"Yes, you were."

"I'm sorry."

Catherine scrunched her face up a little. "Yeah, well, Sara, we won't worry about it now. You're safe. But you and I will be having a serious conversation about this sometime soon."

Sara nodded. One of the paramedics lifted her arm, and prepared a needle for an IV. Sara tensed, and pulled her arm away.

"Sara."

"No needles!" The images of the last three days flashed before her, and her eyes filled with tears.

Catherine picked up her arm. She noted the needle marks, and saw a fresh one, not more than a day old. "He shoot you up?"

Sara's face reddened and she turned away.

"How many times?" Catherine's voice was firm.

"The first time, I thought I had injected the drug into my shirt, but there was residual. The second time I was held down. I am such a fool."

"Okay. So we aren't going to need to do much in the way of detox, it sounds."

"I don't want another needle."

"Yeah, but you need the fluids. Okay? So how about I hold your arm, and make sure everything is okay."

Sara turned her head away and a few sobs escaped. Catherine gently positioned her arm for the medic. She held firmly as the needle was injected. Sara grimaced and strained against the sensation. The paramedic hooked the line up to the IV and positioned it on the stretcher. Catherine reached over and turned Sara's face back to hers. Gently, she wiped the tears from her eyes. Then she leaned over to her ear and whispered: "Now the healing begins. You're going to be okay."

Sara closed her eyes against the tender attentions of her friend. Then she opened her eyes, and remembered the question she hadn't asked earlier. "Where's Grissom?"

"He's here. He's caught up in something right now. He'll catch us at the hospital." Catherine nodded at the paramedics, and they began pulling her stretcher through the crowd of people. Catherine kept a firm grip on Sara's hand, trotting alongside.

……………………………….......................................................................................................

Grissom saw the stretcher wheel through the living room, and he started to get up from the kitchen table where he was seated. Catherine caught his eye, and smiled. He relaxed back into the chair. Brass and Monroe sat at the table with him.

"Okay, the only problem I'm having here is that he didn't identify himself or warn him before he fired."

Brass glared at Monroe. "He was going to kill her!"

"All right, you know, Jim, I am not Internal Affairs, and you're not his lawyer. Okay? But IAB is on their way, and these are the questions they will ask. So excuse me for trying to prep your friend."

"He caught the bastard in the act of killing a woman. He reacted to save her."

"Do you think IAB is going to let you answer all of Grissom's questions for him? I mean, it's common knowledge around the department that he can speak."

Grissom found himself detached from the conversation being argued on his behalf. He wondered if they would say anything if he got up, and laid down on the leather couch in the living room. He could close his eyes, and try to organize his thoughts. Just rest for a minute. Try to slow the images racing through his head. He could somehow get control over them before they overwhelmed him. Running down the hall with Brass yelling after him to stop. Stepping into the open bedroom, and seeing the monster straddling a woman, and another woman lying in a heap beside him. There was a flash of steel, and he reacted. Shooting the man seemed like the most logical step. He was acting as would a monster, and needed to be handled as such. The explosion was amazing. Blood erupted like the most gaudy of fireworks. Then monster became a man who twitched twice and then lay still. The object in his hand that he had owned for many years, cleaned regularly, and fired at the range, had become a weapon. It's power and majesty displayed before him in the most intimate way possible. He was awed by it, and more than a little frightened. Today he took life, and the enormity of it made him feel separate from everyone around him.

"Gil. Gil! Are you with us?" Grissom turned his head to find Brass gesturing at him. He wanted to ask Jim if he had ever killed anyone but it felt like such a rude question.

"What?"

"So they want to interview you here at the scene. Now I don't want you to worry because you did exactly the right thing, and they are going to see that."

"Okay."

"And they are going to take your gun, and you're going to have to go on suspension. Just until they finish the inquiry. Probably no more than a couple of weeks. They do that in all police shootings. So I don't want you to worry--"

"I don't care."

"Okay. Well, nonchalant is okay, but I would prefer that you stick with sounding sincere."

"But I don't care, Jim. I don't care what happens. Maybe that will be different tomorrow, but right now I don't care." Grissom was beginning to show signs of life.

"Maybe you should do all the talking for him, Brass." Monroe said.

"He's in shock. They'll understand shock. Hell, we'll explain it to them."

A familiar voice sounded in the living room. Brass winced as Ecklie began issuing orders to CSI's coming in the door. Ecklie looked around and spied them in the kitchen. He came trotting over.

"Everyone all right here?"

"Yeah, we're just sitting here playing 'I spy with my little eye.' Want to join?"

Conrad ignored Brass. "I heard everything on the radio on the way over here. I was so shocked. I am glad to hear that Sara's okay though."

Grissom couldn't muster up the energy to deal with Ecklie.

"I want you to know that I will conduct a completely fair and impartial investigation into this shooting. I'm sure the evidence will tell us everything we need in order to bring this case to its most logical conclusion."

"We were hoping that you would come and inspire us with your words." Brass could not contain his surliness.

"Please tell Sara that I am confident of her full recovery, and that I will try to come and visit her as soon as possible."

Grissom stiffened, drawing in a sharp breath. Nobody moved.

Finally Ecklie spoke. "Well, I'm sure that she's going to want to be left alone for awhile. She doesn't need to deal with work issues right away."

"Right you are, Conrad." Brass was on his feet and steering Ecklie away from the kitchen. "Crime scene is down the hall, first door to your right. Let me just escort you."

Grissom dropped his head into his arms resting on the table. Maybe IAB wouldn't need eye contact. Maybe they would let him sleep between questions. Maybe it would be mercifully short. And he suspected it might be if he resigned on the spot. He considered the merits of such an idea. Tomorrow, he would see it as a huge mistake. But who the hell cared about tomorrow? Right now, he needed to get to the hospital, and find a nice, comfy chair so that he could sleep until it was time to see her.

……………………………….....................................................................................................................

Nicky winced as he raised his head. The kink in his neck was radiating pain to his temples. He squeezed his forehead, and pulled himself into an upright position. It took him a minute to focus his eyes. Rubbing the stubble on his face, he looked around the room. Warrick was still there, stretched out long in a chair, his lanky crossed at the ankles. Greg was sleeping half in a chair, and half on the coffee table in front of him. The stillness of the hospital in the early morning was a little eerie. Lights on everywhere in the white, sterile environment, but no movement as if the place was abandoned. He stood up and stretched long. Then he shuffled down the hallway in search of a cup of coffee. As he turned the corner, he found himself right on top of Catherine. The coffee she was holding, dumped down the front of her shirt. Nick winced, "I'm sorry Catherine."

She just eyed him once as she rubbed on the brown stain with the napkin she was holding around the hot cup.

"Let me buy you another. Come on. Everyone's sleeping still. If the shirt doesn't come clean, then you and I have a date at the mall. Okay?"

She nodded, her blue eyes showing the strain of sleeplessness. She accepted his proffered arm, and followed him down the hallway.

"Haven't seen Grissom. Do you think they are still questioning him or do you think he was just smart enough to sleep in his own bed?"

"Neither." The exhaustion gave her voice a smoky quality. "He showed up about an hour ago. Here let me show you."

She took his arm and guided him in the other direction. At Sara's door, she carefully pushed the door in and motioned for him to follow. He looked over her shoulder, and saw Sara sleeping soundly. On a chair beside her bed, Grissom sat folded over, head laying on Sara's bed, one arm sprawled across her middle.

"Oooh! Somebody is going to get a surprise when they wake up." Nick let a grin grow.

"Yeah, my guess is that there will be a lot of hasty apologies, some awkward maneuvering around the subject, and then a clumsy segue into the mundane."

"Do you think they will end up talking about the weather?"

"Probably." Catherine smirked.

"Maybe this will be the straw that breaks the camel's back." Nick chuckled. "Wouldn't Ecklie love that."

"What do you think, Nicky? The two of them together. Good idea?"

"Are you kidding? They'll kill each other."

"Honestly, I am kind of rooting for them."

"It's really a moot point, isn't it? They can barely sit in the break room together for five minutes without a misunderstanding of epic proportions."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Still, I'd love to film the wake-up of this lovely moment."

"I just want a cup of coffee and three eggs, over easy. How 'bout you show me where the cafeteria is. Breakfast is on me."

Catherine looked down at her stained shirt. "Sorry, Nick. 'fraid you got it on me first."

………………………………..............................................................................................................

Sara woke to find a man in her bed. Considering the events of the last three days, she should have been terrified, but the silver locks of hair and beard told her that this was a matter of a different sort. She lay very quietly and watched him. This was the first time she had ever seen him sleep. He looked so peaceful, snoring gently through his mouth. She wished the two of them could stay like this for days. She knew that when he woke up, it would be awkward. He would be embarrassed. She would be uncomfortable. And then she would have to see his eyes, and know how much she had put him through. So she stayed absolutely still, and soon her breathing fell into a rhythm with his.

At some point she drifted off again. When she awoke, there was a doctor in the room and Grissom was gone.

"Sara, how are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"Well, everything is looking good. Your electrolytes are in the normal range. Your fever is responding to the antibiotics. And you seem to be detoxing beautifully. I don't think we are going to have to keep you for more than another couple of days."

"I'd prefer to go home."

"Sara, you are on your way, but you can't be alone right now. You've put your body through a great deal. Not the least of which was a needle full of heroin."

"Believe me, I am not a danger to myself. I just want to sleep in my own bed. Hospitals are…not for me."

"You have been traumatized, you're recovering from what in your system was a drug overdose, you're fighting an upper respiratory infection, and you are undernourished. You can do what you want, Sara, but I'm not going to stay quiet on this. You should not be in your home alone."

"What if someone stayed with her. Made sure she got regular meals, her antibiotics, and kept an eye out for any problems." This voice startled Sara physically. She turned her head, and there he was, standing at the door with a coffee in hand.

The doctor turned to him. "I suppose that would work as long as she was seen by a regular physician within the first week."

"I have a couple weeks off. I'd be happy to do it. How about it, Sara?"

Sara stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all. I think it is a great idea. It will be quiet, relaxing. It will give me time to work on a couple of articles I have been meaning to write. And your only job will be to sleep, eat what I make, and do what I say."

"What would people think?"

He shrugged. "Nothing they haven't already been thinking for the last five years. I don't really care anymore. Do you care?"

She couldn't form a response.

"Right." Grissom turned to the doctor. "Go ahead and prepare the discharge papers. If she blinks in the meantime, I'll let you know.

……………………………….....................................................................................................

"Okay, really not a good idea, Grissom. Are you listening to me?" Catherine was leaning over Grissom as he studied the orders from the charge nurse.

"It's not a big deal."

"Ecklie is going to have a field day."

"I don't care." Grissom looked over the prescription bottles the nurse set out on the counter.

Catherine spied Jim Brass coming down the hall, and waved him over. "Did you hear what Grissom's plan is? He's going to take Sara home and stay with her. He's going to take care of her."

Brass smiled and slapped Grissom on the back. "All right. You go, Gil. It's about time."

Grissom lifted an eyebrow, and glared at Brass. "I will rest better because I will know how she is doing. She will rest because she will be in her own house. And I could use a quiet place to work on some notes that I want to pull together for a paper. It makes sense."

"Hey. Works for me."

"Idiot! You were supposed to back me up on this." Catherine slapped him on the back of the head. Brass winced, and skated beyond her reach.

"We're not having this conversation. Okay?" Grissom gathered the prescriptions and instructions into his briefcase.

"Somebody has to watch your back."

"And I am always grateful for that." He leaned over, and kissed a surprised Catherine on the cheek.

Brass nodded at him. "So, you going to call that lawyer I told you about."

"Am I going to need one?"

"Well, you shouldn't wait until you need one to get one."

"I'll call."

"And the PEAP counselor? When you going to start that?"

Grissom let out a sigh.

"Come on now, Gil. You have to talk to someone. It was a clean shoot. The right thing to do. But you still killed a man, and you got to follow procedure on this."

"I know what my responsibilities are." Grissom turned to leave, and almost ran into Sara. She was standing there against the wall, waiting. Wearing a man's oversized t-shirt, she looked small and vulnerable.

Grissom stepped back. "I didn't realize you were ready."

"You shot Viktor?" She looked startled.

Grissom nodded.

"I'm sorry." She stepped forward.

Grissom shifted imperceptibly and escaped her touch. "I am all ready. I'll be waiting in the truck."

Sara watched him as he hurried down the hall. Catherine walked up to her, and put her arm around her shoulder. Sara started to say something, but Catherine just shook her head. She squeezed Sara, and then steered her down the hall after Grissom.

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	12. chapter 12

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Okay, guys, you've been great hanging in there through all the hard stuff. So, now, of course, it is time for a little GSR, right? Yes, but I do not have the ability to make their love for one another overflow like a tsunami. I like them as much in character as possible. So, therefore, they will still have to be private, socially awkward, well-defended people. And I will try to stay somewhat in character, but still pull it off. I hope you stick with it.

Sheila

**Chapter 12**

"Hey guys!" Mia came in to the break room.

"Hey yourself." Warrick looked up from his paperwork. Nick smiled and nodded at her.

"Had quite an exciting time I hear. How's Sara?"

"She's okay. Went home already." Nick said.

"Alone? She's ready for that? I heard she had a really bad time."

Nick looked at Warrick for a moment before responding. "A friend went to stay with her."

"Good. I'll have to call her."

"Give her a couple of days, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem." She sat down between them. "I can't believe you have to be back to work so soon. You both look like you could use a few more days at home."

"Thanks. Just what we needed to hear." Warrick growled.

Mia smiled at him, unperturbed by his surliness. "Hey Nick, I wanted to take you up on your offer for breakfast. I would love to hear about everything. Tomorrow okay?"

Nicky looked at the beautiful woman, and then at his good friend. "Hey Warrick, how 'bout it? You're the real hero here. Got time for breakfast tomorrow? We can regale Mia with our tales of adventure."

"You go ahead." Warrick shrugged.

"Hmm. Now that I think about it, Mia, tomorrow is not so good. Can we do a rain check?"

Mia gave Nick a puzzled look. "But you just said….."

"I know. Sorry. The sleep is going to be a deal in the morning. Plus, Warrick's really better at telling stories."

Warrick wrinkled his brows. "I'm better at telling stories? Nick, did your mama never teach you not to lie?"

Nick ignored him. "So Mia, how 'bout you take Warrick tomorrow, and we can make a breakfast next week sometime."

Mia shrugged. "Hey, that's okay with me. I got some comps from The Palms, and they have the most amazing breakfast buffet. What do you say, Warrick?"

"Ah, I don't know. "

"Free breakfast. Good company. Come on, Warrick." She leaned over him.

"All right. Meet you at The Palms. 8 a.m. okay?" Warrick glared at Nicky while he spoke.

"It's a date." Mia smiled. "Got to get back to work, guys."

Warrick waited until she left, and then leaned over to Nick. "I can get my own dates, thank you very much."

"I know. I just don't want to compete over a girl. You're my friend, man. That's going to trump chasing after girls every time. I got your back. You know?"

Warrick looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Nicky, You are a very odd man."

Nick laughed. "Ah, Warrick. Don't get all gushy on me and everything."

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Grissom sat in the dark, alone, on her couch. He had found his late night classical station on her stereo, and he played it softly. He had been like this for hours. As the sun went down, he let the natural light disappear, and turned nothing on. Days mixed up with nights. He would be working right now, at a crime scene, maybe at the lab processing evidence.

It was frustrating. Sleep should have been his best friend. He calculated that he had probably slept only 3 hours over the course of the previous 3 nights. Yet here he sat in the dark on an adequately comfortable sofa, and sleep refused to visit.

Instead the memories and feelings of the last week came, visceral and sharp. The fear and the panic intertwined with the despair and the chaos. And over and over in his mind, Grissom shot a man through the back of the head at close range, scattering his flesh and bones and brain matter all over a baby's nursery in front of the man's child. His brain and his heart were not in cooperation with one another. His reason and logic explained these events nicely, but his gut ached at the memory of his gun's deadly force.

It was ironic really that he, Grissom the robot, should be so knotted up about killing a murderer. What would his colleagues think? Catherine had shot a man to save his life four years ago, and she was able to see it for what it was and move on. Emotional Catherine could put it into perspective, and he couldn't.

He heard a shuffling noise, and saw Sara drift out into the living room Again, she wore an oversized t-shirt, but there was a surprise; Sara had legs. Long, shapely legs. He had never known about them before as he had only ever seen her in pants. Now, she appeared, blurry and tousled, into the living room in the middle of the night, and all he could concentrate on were her legs.

She regarded him for a moment, her eyes squinting as she acclimated to the soft light coming into the living room from the full moon outside. "I thought you were set up in the spare bedroom. Is it not all right?"

He smiled a little. "Just couldn't sleep. How about you? Nightmares?"

She shrugged. Then she curled up in a chair opposite him.

"You should go back to sleep, Sara. You need the rest."

Her dark eyes were luminous against the moonlight. For a while she was quiet, and then she leaned forward. "Have you ever discharged your weapon on duty before?"

He shook his head.

"The first time you do, and you have to kill someone."

Her perceptions into his pain were uncanny.

"I'm so sorry that you were forced to do that. It's my fault. If I hadn't have been so stupid---"

"Knock it off. I mean it, Sara." His anger startled both of them. "You can't do this. You can't keep directing this much anger at yourself. It's going to kill you. I believe that. After this week, I really believe that."

Sara pulled her knees up to her chin and shuddered.

"Whatever this is, you can't hide from it anymore. You have to face it and get better. We need you to do that for us. I need you….to do that. Please."

"I thought I was facing it."

Grissom shook his head. "I think you gave into the anger. Nothing that happened this week was in the least bit related to any kind of healing."

For a few minutes, they let silence rule. Sara broke the quiet. "I am having trouble remembering what happened before you shot him. I remember the woman, Dolly, hiding me in the closet. Do you know that she helped to save my life?"

"We were able to piece it together."

"Then Viktor surprised and hurt her. I crawled out of the closet and he was there again. I had a scissors, and I think I stabbed him. After that, I have no memories."

"Probably not that much more to remember. When I got there, Viktor was straddling you with that pair of scissors. He was ready to kill you. I didn't think. I just pulled the trigger."

"Thank you for that."

"You're welcome."

"Well, that was civil."

Grissom smiled, and for the first time in a long time, Sara could feel his warmth. She smiled back, and then stretched out her long legs.

"I'm ready to sleep. How about you?"

He nodded. For a moment, she stared at him. Then she turned and walked back into her bedroom. Grissom watched this woman in a t-shirt with her beautiful legs. So complex. So lovely. So intoxicating. He wondered if this was going to be the relaxing week he had imagined.

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"Is this you, Brass?"

Brass smiled into the phone. "Good to hear from you, Roy. How's my favorite sheriff?"

"You called and harassed my secretary again."

"It's called leaving a message, Roy."

"I'm not meeting with you. The last time, you were like some kind of crazed dog, threatening a colleague like you did. Acting as if I'm not bound by Federal Statutes on threats of a physical nature."

"Oh, hell, I was letting off steam."

"What do you want now?"

"We had a hard week over here. Sara Sidle was kidnapped, and Grissom killed a suspect."

"And you want me to do what? Come over and facilitate a trauma support group."

"I want to know that you have their backs. They're valuable people. They deserve your support."

"You know, Brass, you really are a ballsy son. I'm not pledging anything until I see final reports."

"I want you to know that they both deserve to back on the job as soon as possible."

"Okay then, anything else, Brass? You need some dry cleaning picked up, lawn watered, what?"

"Yeah, Ecklie is a prick who would screw up that report for about ten cents, and I am going to be watching him like a hawk."

"Were you raised by wolves 'cause socially you are one delayed son of a bitch."

"The thing I like about you, Roy, is that you know your limitations. You know you are only as good as the people beneath you. How you put up with Ecklie I do not know, but you have always respected people who know how to get the work done. Witness my continued employment by this department."

"Maybe you should get a little more familiar with your limitations."

Brass laughed. "Good one."

"You know Jim, if the girl is crazy, she's better off working for us in another capacity."

"I'm not worried. She's going to be just fine. And she's damn good, Roy. She's smart and she works hard."

"All right. Just tell me one thing. How did you let my bug man get near a situation like that? I thought that's what we paid you for."

"Grissom cares about his people. He's hard to handle when one of his CSI's is in trouble."

"Especially the girl?"

"So now, you wanna gossip like a couple of fishwives, huh?"

"Hell, you know how I feel about that."

"I do, indeed."

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TBC


	13. chapter 13

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS. I am playing with them because I feel like it.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved.

You guys are great feed backers. I love you for it. I really do. I'm having nothing but fun with all this. I suspect that I will be finished posting in the next 3 days or so. Going to go chapter a day 'til the end. And I can do that 'cause you all were such great supporters.

Thanks

Sheila

**Chapter 13**

When Grissom heard the shower, he smiled. She was emerging finally. The last three days, she had holed up in her room, only coming out at mealtimes. He knew she needed the time, but was relieved that she was showing some signs of returning to the world.

His notes were spread across the table, and he arranged them so that there was room for her. He got up, and prepared cereal with soymilk and a banana for her. It was amazing the small things he had learned about her this week. He knew she was going to glare at him for making her breakfast, but he also knew that if he didn't do it, she wouldn't eat. On the second morning, she made the audacious claim that breakfast wasn't good for her as she was never hungry when she woke up, and, therefore, it upset her stomach. He found that if he made it, and put it in front of her, she scowled at him, but eventually ate it.

She shuffled in, wet hair hanging down her back. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, her feet bare. Grissom was amazed to learn that she wore a different set of clothes altogether at home than she did at work. He had begun to wish that department dress code was a little more lax as jeans seemed to fit her in an especially fetching manner.

She saw the cereal, and rolled her eyes. Grissom waited. He knew to let her work through her reaction. She sat down in front of it, eyes down. She looked up at him, and narrowed her eyes, and then returned her attention to the bowl in front of her. Finally, she picked up the spoon, and dug in. He suppressed a grin. She would not be pleased to see it.

He joined her at the table, and began putting notes into specific piles. He knew she was watching him out of the corner of her eye, but he continued his work as if oblivious.

She grabbed a stack of notes and turned them so she could read. He stayed hunched over his papers digesting none of what he was reading.

"A paper on the Asian Lady Beetle?"

Now addressed, he raised his head. "There is an influx of these beetles over the last three years in Vegas. They should be properly studied to see how they can benefit forensic science."

"Do they feed on corpses?"

"No, but their lifecycle is very well defined. We could use that for time of death."

"Interesting. Want any help?"

"Thought you would never offer." This time he let his smile grow.

She returned the smile. "When do you ever find time to do all this research?"

He shrugged. "Other people have a social life.."

"And some of us stay glued to our police scanner…."

He pushed a pile of paper in her direction. "Here, I need whatever you can find on the maturation of the females."

She picked up the pile, and then created a space for herself. Every once in a while, he would steal a look. She seemed intent on the work in front of her. He, on the other hand, was not so intent on his work. She was up, and looking less fragile. He wanted to talk. Finally, after fifteen minutes of forced concentration on the same paragraph, he sat up and took off his glasses.

"Sara, I want to ask you something."

Her head popped up.

"I'm confused. I don't understand what you thought was going to happen when you went to that lounge. Showing up like that with no back-up, no safety plan. It doesn't correlate with the serious and thoughtful Sara that I thought I knew."

She thought for a moment before responding. "I thought that I was standing up to my fears. My memories have held me captive for so long, especially when children like Hannah come into my life, I didn't know how else to confront them."

"Did you care that you were exposing yourself to an extremely dangerous situation?"

"You're wondering if I was being suicidal?"

He nodded.

She shook her head. "Desperate is what I was feeling. Nothing more."

"Okay."

She lined up her stack of notes carefully, and then put them to the side. "Grissom, when I was a kid…"

Grissom stopped what he was doing, and gave her his full attention.

"My dad left us when I was 10, and my mom fell into a depression. Big, nasty, unable to get out of bed, crying all the time depression. And then, in order to cope, my well educated, middle class mother, began using drugs. At first, it was not too bad. My brother still lived at home, and I could go to him….until he started using. At some point, she graduated to bigger drugs, heroin for example, and with that came her supplier boyfriend, Curt. Handsome, charming, mean Curt."

She saw his eyes narrow. "Don't assume anything just yet, Grissom. It was bad, but it could have been worse."

"Curt kept my mom high a lot of the time. It became increasingly difficult for me to reach her at all. I blamed him and let him know it. Constantly. I was a very stubborn little girl."

He smiled. "Hasn't changed, Sara."

Her face was tight and she was unable to return the gesture. "One day, my mother was drooling on the kitchen table when I came in from school. So high. I could barely get a response out of her. So I ran to call 911. Curt saw me and pulled the phone out of the jack. I started hitting him. And, to no one's surprise, he reciprocated. He had me on the kitchen floor, we were struggling, and the next thing I knew he was pulling off my jeans."

Grissom breathed in sharply.

"I got hysterical. My mother struggled to her feet and climbed on his back. He punched her a few times, and she was out. He caught me by the legs, but couldn't get any cooperation. He reached up onto the counter, and pulled down a steak knife. And then he stabbed me in the side."

She stopped and rubbed at her wet eyes. Grissom didn't move.

"That stupid knife saved my life. I bled like a stuck pig, and got it all over everything. It freaked him out. He couldn't stand the blood. The next thing I knew, he was off me and backing away. Cops didn't find him for a month. He was holed up with some other poor woman. My mom couldn't handle things. She left me at the hospital, and I didn't see her for two weeks. And only then because they found her dumped in an alley. She went to treatment seven times before she got clean. But she couldn't parent anymore. And, as for me, I spent my adolescence in foster homes where I treated every parent like a potential Curt. I was not a fun kid."

Grissom broke his paralysis, and reached over to squeeze her hand.

"Gris, every time, I work with an abused kid or neglected one… Every time, I see an abused woman, it feels like Curt is right there. Like they never caught him. I feel their wounds and their bruises; their fear and their pain. I can't seem to control it. More than anything I worry that this means I shouldn't do this work. More than anything, I think that's what I'll see in your eyes when I look at you."

"I'm sorry, Sara. I'm so sorry." He held her hand tightly. He imagined getting up, going around the table, and holding her tightly. That was probably the thing to do, but he didn't believe he had the grace to do this in anything but the most clumsy manner. He imagined it would be awkward for both of them. So he held on tightly from across the table for as long as she allowed.

………………………………..................................................................................................................

Catherine trotted after Conrad Ecklie. "Wait, Conrad."

Ecklie turned and slowed for her. "What can I do for you, Catherine?"

"I just want to know how your investigation is going."

"Really. I didn't realize you were so interested in cases not on your roster. Which one are you curious about?"

"Knock it off. You know I want to know how the IAB case is going."

"Why would I discuss that with you?"

"Because Grissom is an employee in good standing, and he was backed up by respected members of the department, and this matters a lot to every employee in this lab. Conrad, please remember that you are supposed to hope that he gets cleared. He's one of ours, he is one of yours."

He stopped in the hall and turned to face her. "I am a scientist, and this is an investigation. It will be done in an objective manner. And as for what I hope, well let me tell you this, Catherine, if the situation was reversed, Grissom wouldn't even think twice about hanging me out to dry."

Catherine stared back at him. "Not if you were innocent. He has no stomach for that kind of revenge. Can you say the same?"

He stepped forward and raised a finger at her. Despite his obvious size, Catherine didn't move back. "You want to accuse me of bias? Do you realize that as a new supervisor, you are on probation? I can fire you or demote you anytime in the next 3 months without a formal process of any kind."

"This is what I'm saying, Conrad. Exactly this."

He shook his head slowly, refusing to make eye contact. "You'll never get it. You act like the only thing that matters is what happens out in the field. You ignore everything that goes into making your job possible. Those of us that make this lab viable and solvent, you have no time or respect for us."

Catherine snorted back a laugh. "You can have all the respect in the world, Conrad. But resenting Grissom because he is smarter or more esteemed in his field is not getting you anywhere. You can't be him."

He backed away, and, without another word, he turned and left. Catherine collapsed against the wall for a moment, and cursed her lack of tact.

TBC


	14. chapter 14

Disclaimer: Not mine. Goons at CBS own them.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

Short chapter. Sorry. I am finished though. Next three days will be the rest of the chapters. And I hope, quite desperately, that it is up to your GSR standards. I have had nothing but the best time with this whole thing.

Sheila

**Chapter 14**

He suggested a walk and it turned into a safari. She jumped on the idea immediately as she hadn't been outdoors in four days. The idea of going to and from the park quickly became a hike in Valley of Fire State Park. Grissom argued that she wasn't ready for such strenuous activity, but Sara's natural energy was back. She disappeared into the bedroom, and returned wearing hiking boots, t-shirts, and shorts. He figured the shorts were what put him over the top. Again, she was bringing those legs out to play. He was definitely going to bring up the dress code when he got back to work.

While she dug out water bottles, maps, and other kinds of gear, Grissom rifled his bag for some sort of appropriate attire. For this first time he could remember, he felt self-conscious about what he wore. He put together his lightest weight shirt with a pair of khaki's. When she was ready, she literally grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door.

………………………………................................................................................................................

Sara looked back, and found Grissom gamely following her up the bluff. She knew he would have preferred a more leisurely pace. The bug man was already distracted on several occasions by beetles and ants. She let him stop every once in a while, but was eager to get him to the top of the bluff.

Once she slipped on gravel, and fell backward. Grissom was there in an instant, breaking her fall. She relaxed into his arms for a moment, and let him support her. She felt his beard brush her cheek, and sensation traveled down her spine. He didn't move, letting her choreograph the next movement. Reluctantly, she eased out of his arms, and continued.

The last 50 feet required active climbing. She took it slow, offering a hand for leverage to Grissom every once in a while. After two hours of climbing, she pulled him up to the top of the bluff. There was a flat, rocky top that looked over a significant portion of the park. She wanted to dance around the top against the backdrop of the beautiful rock formations and rainbow vistas of colored sandstone. The majesty of it always swelled her heart, and she was so happy to share it with him. He stepped up on the top, and stopped, in awe with the world around him. There was nothing monotone about this desert spot. Subtle shades of pink, orange, purple, and yellow blended together in ways that could not yet be duplicated synthetically. The formations, random and sculpted, dotted the landscape in amazing patterns. Grissom took some time, and studied the view from all directions.

Sara found a boulder and settled onto it. She tucked one leg underneath the other and reached for her water bottle. It was here that larger, deeper ideas grew for her. There was no room for the trivial among this majesty. A shadow that grew over her, and then Grissom settled down beside her.

"It's beautiful, Sara."

"Yes, it is."

"You doing okay? Not too tired?"

She grinned. "Have any ideas on how to get me off this rock if I say I am?"

He smiled and turned his attention back to the amazing vistas. The afternoon sun hit bluffs and buttes at an angle, and long thin shadows jutted out everywhere. In the distance, two hikers climbed Devil's Bluff, one after the another, moving infinitesimally slow in the distance.

"I'm going to be okay, Grissom."

"I believe that."

"I'm glad I talked to you earlier. I feel better."

"Please value your life, your contribution. You're very important. We…I can't lose you like that."

"You're important to me." She leaned against him, intertwining her arm with his.

"I get confused about this."

She wrinkled her nose at his shoulder. "It's not so confusing, Grissom."

"I'm older, and not very socially skilled. I pick up on someone's emotional needs about the moment they are ready to beat me with a stick. And it would make for a very complicated work situation."

"Anything else?"

"You would lose interest in a middle aged bug man like myself with no other interests."

She snuggled in closer as if there was a chill somewhere in the 90 plus degree desert. "I don't have words to describe it. Perhaps, it defies description. Your buddy, Shakespeare, probably has something to say about this."

"'To say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.' A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"Will you ever forgive me?"

He folded his hand into hers. "How can I not?"

"If we wait until the sun sets, it will be stunning. I guarantee it."

"And then we break our legs walking down in the dark."

She laughed at him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I brought flashlights, Grissom."

……………………………….......................................................................................................................

Driving home was electric. Every fiber of his being was in tune with her presence. She sat facing him slightly, and he felt like her gaze never left his face. He knew his only escape would be in announcing that she seemed ready to be by herself, and he was ready to go home. Only problem was that he was not ready. Far from it. He enjoyed taking care of her. He enjoyed her energy and even her irascibility. And a part of him still feared the demons within her.

He entered her home awkwardly, standing there in the living room as for the first time. She grinned at him, and offered to make coffee. He nodded and settled into a chair.

With the coffee, she brought pasta salad he made for yesterday's lunch. He had forgotten that they missed a meal. He should have been hungry, but he barely picked at the food. He felt her eyes on him as he ate. Finished, Sara sat back on the couch, her arms folded across her chest.

"Grissom, I hereby release you from your babysitting responsibilities. You are free to go home."

Grissom furled his brow at her.

"Before you say anything, I am feeling good, I feel valued, and I will never risk myself like that again. Also, I called my counselor earlier. We start meeting next week. Ongoing, weekly sessions. You can sleep easy."

"I haven't been babysitting." Grissom said with a tinge of frustration.

"Whatever you were doing, you are released from that obligation."

"I don't understand."

"I don't want you feeling trapped."

"Oh."

"I think you should go home, stretch out on the couch, and turn on the discovery channel. Get some real rest. My expectation is that you too will be seeing your PEAP counselor, and processing the shooting. It is important that you set a good example for me. Okay?"

Grissom wondered if relief was the feeling that was filling his gut.

"I appreciate you so much. You have been patient and kind. I trusted you with my nightmares, and you didn't disappoint. I owe you a lot."

Grissom looked down at the floor for a moment trying to process this new chain of events. Finally, he got up and smiled at her. "I was happy to help. You are important to the team. We'll be glad to have you back."

She nodded and he noticed that her eyes seemed large and soft. He almost stepped forward and thought better of it. So he left her in the living room while he pulled his things together. She was still in the same spot when he returned. He wanted to say something but he couldn't find the right words. He smiled, told her to take care, and walked out the door, his duffle slung over his shoulder. He got into his truck and sat there staring out the windshield unable to turn the key in the ignition.

……………………………….............................................................................................

TBC


	15. chapter 15

Disclaimer: not my characters. They are those of CBS.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

All right. Last chapter was something of a letdown. So here is chapter 15, a little early. Tomorrow morning I post the last chapter, and then I am out of town for a few days. It has been so much fun that I wonder if I won't be ready to try another story in a couple of weeks. Who knows? But you have all been wonderful. I wish I had time to post all the names of my supporters, but I am always just running to and from work as is the case now.

Sheila

**Chapter 15**

Sara opened the door and there he stood. Before she could speak, he had walked past her into the apartment.

"Grissom?"

"It turns out I wasn't ready to leave." He reached out his hand. "Come here." She took it tentatively, and he led her over to the couch. She sat down next to him.

"I don't understand. What's going on?"

"I couldn't think out there."

"You have been sitting in the car this whole time, thinking?"

"I thought I could think better in here."

"Okay." Sara looked puzzled.

"You have to understand that sitting this close to you fills me with a fear unmatched by anything I have felt since I saw a man trying to kill you."

"It's--"

He put a finger to his lips. "Shhhhhhhhh!!! I'm trying to concentrate here."

She realized that he hadn't let go of her hand. He reached up with his other hand, and pushed her hair away from her face, gently pulling it behind her ear. She shivered, but endeavored to stay still for him.

"I have been bewitched by you for so long. I don't think you have any idea." His voice was soft and cool, sensation in itself.

He sighed and took his glasses off, carefully placing them on her coffee table. He returned his hand to her face and began stroking her cheek. Sara leaned into his touch, staring unabashed back at him.

"Reason isn't getting me anywhere, Sara. Everything I can think to do is not as risky as doing nothing at all. It confounds me, and leaves me frustrated."

"Grissom--"

He moved his hand down and gently put his fingers on her lips. "You have to let me finish saying this." He took a breath and continued. "It's amazing how a man can live a lonely and frustrated life for so long, and convince himself the whole time that this is the best of all options."

Sara held her breath.

"I don't know what this is, and, this is hard for a scientist, as you know. I only know what I want, and I am learning that, sometimes, that has to be enough."

She nodded and waited. For a long time, he did nothing but stare at her, his breathing falling into a rhythm with hers. His hand dropped to the back of her neck, and he began to stroke it softly, up and down. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. He pulled her face to his, and kissed her softly, his lips connecting between hers. His kisses began light and soft, then became increasingly insistent. She opened her mouth and invited him in. Patient and thorough, he took time to explore her mouth. He moved to her ear and then her neck. Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and let him wander. His hand went to her waist and began traveling up under her shirt. His eyes opened and his hand stopped. He broke contact with Sara's mouth, slowly caressing an area on her ribs.

Sara reached down and placed her hand over his. "It's my scar." Then she pulled up her shirt. She shifted over so that he could get a better look. He moved his hand, and studied the pink line snaking up her side. She leaned over and whispered into his ear. "It saved my life, Griss."

He leaned over and kissed it lightly. "Thank you," he whispered to her skin. Sara whimpered when he did that, and he reached over and pulled her into him. For a long time, he held her tightly while she cried into his chest. He whispered to her words about her strength and beauty and courage while stroking her hair. After awhile, Sara calmed. Then she reached up and pulled his face down to hers.

They shifted so Grissom could return his attention to her neck. The delicate hairs of his beard sent tingles through her. He leaned over her, and she settled back into the couch drawing him in on top of her. For a time, they carefully explored one another; kissing, soft, curious touching, making discoveries about each other's pleasures. Grissom found her breasts, and kneaded them gently. Sara reached down and began to pull her shirt over her head. Grissom stopped her hands, and pulled her back up into a sitting position.

"What?"

"All in good time, Sara. All in good time." He whispered into her ear as he put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into him. Her head again came to rest on his chest. For awhile, they sat together in a companionable silence; her hand stroking his thigh.

Finally he spoke. "This is an important thing that is happening here. I want to give it the respect it deserves."

She grinned. "In other words, you're freaked out, and you need to take it slow."

"That too."

"How are you doing?"

"I feel very alive, Sara."

"So what's next?"

"Well, I want to talk to you about your attire. First, could you put your legs up here?" He gestured to his lap. She giggled and swung her bare legs across his lap. He smiled and began stroking their length. "Sara, I like these legs very, very much. And it seems to me that you hide them entirely too much. So here is what I think we should do. First, I go to Ecklie, and I tell him you have a…condition, a rash or something. Okay? And that you need to have fresh air on your legs at all times, and that means at work as well. I'll tell him that essentially you should wear nothing but shorts. Then you bring in a note from a doctor. I'm sure that between us we know a medical professional who can help you out--"

Sara put a hand over his mouth. "We'll work on that plan later. Let's go back to exploring…this slow thing." She moved her hand down to his chest, and started rubbing circles. She nuzzled her face into his neck, and began to nibble at his ear. He sighed deeply and leaned back, giving her space to explore.

……………………………….........................................................................................................................

"Hey Grissom! Come on in. How's my bug guy?"

Grissom merely raised an eyebrow at the effusive sheriff as Atwater waved him into the conference room. At the end of the long table sat Ecklie, a thick file on the table in front of him.

"We're going to have a sit down, Grissom: you, me, and Ecklie. Gonna put the issues on the table and iron this thing out. Grab a seat." Atwater steered himself around to the end of the table. He gave Ecklie a look, and the man quickly got up and shifted himself to one of the chairs to the side. Grissom sat down across from Ecklie.

"First off, we start with the shooting. Ecklie has the final report. Kick it off, Conrad."

Ecklie opened the file in front of him. Then he cleared his throat, and looked at Grissom. "After much exhaustive work, we were able to determine that it was a clean shooting. Our recommendation is that no charges be filed, and that Grissom be reinstated to his duties as soon as possible."

"Good work. Sorry to put you through all that, Grissom. It's procedure. No way around it. It's a good conclusion." Atwater smiled at Grissom.

"Contrary to popular belief, I was not willing to fake a report just to exact some sort of revenge." Ecklie's voice betrayed the anger of his words.

Grissom nodded at him. "I didn't think you would, Conrad."

"All these good vibes have got me feeling all warm and fuzzy." Atwater said. "But Conrad, I understand that you have other concerns and recommendations, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." Ecklie lifted another report. "Issues that strike at the integrity of the unit."

Grissom stared back at Ecklie, his face stoic.

"The week is a prime example of these concerns. A troubled member of Grissom's team had a breakdown. This was despite warnings by other supervisors about her instability. Grissom chose to ignore her symptoms. During the course of this breakdown, she put herself in a dangerous situation requiring three days of exhaustive work by the narcotics squad as well as a significant portion of lab resources. To date, we are still 36 hours behind on evidentiary collection and processing in other cases. Despite the chaos she has caused, it is my understanding that Grissom fully intends to put her back in the field as early as next week."

"Recommendations, Conrad?"

"Ecklie took a deep breath. "I believe that CSI Sidle should be fired from the unit citing mental health concerns. We can extend her medical a few months as a way of supporting her emotional recovery. I think she deserves that from us. In addition, I think that, while Grissom is a good investigator, I think he falls short as a supervisor. My recommendation is that Grissom is demoted to chief investigator, and another night shift supervisor is chosen."

Atwater raised his eyebrows as if this was the first time he had heard this. "Well, those are some serious charges. Grissom, how do you respond?"

Grissom sat quietly for a moment, his eyes never leaving Ecklie. Then he reached up and removed his glasses. He leaned forward slightly. "I care about my people. That's no secret. I don't try to control them. I give them room to grow, make choices. Sara Sidle is one of my best. She is brilliant and hardworking and efficient. It's too bad, Conrad didn't bring in some of her casework, you would then have to see what an exemplary employee she--"

"She's unstable." Ecklie hissed.

"Conrad!" Atwater put a hand up. "You had your chance. Let Grissom say his piece."

"She has done so much good work for this department." Grissom shook his head slowly. "But she does have weaknesses. She gets very emotionally involved, she exhausts herself, and she is dealing with some unresolved trauma."

Atwater nodded. "She does not sound that stable, Grissom."

"I disagree. I think she puts her whole heart into her work, and it exacts a price. I think she needs to learn how to handle that more effectively, but I don't see her as unstable. This is a woman who goes through missing persons' files one by one until she get a match. She won't stop until she finds justice for her victims. She sees them as people when the rest of us only see corpses. She's relentless. She should be admired not vilified."

"She turned an entire department on its ear for three days." Ecklie said.

"She got in too deep. It's true. And she's getting help. Professional help. She's embarrassed by what happened, but I think it helped her turn a corner. I think she's going to be even better than she was before."

"Really, Gil. Did you ever read her social services file?"

"No, Conrad, I didn't. That would have an unethical, illegal thing to do. And if she chooses to file charges against you, I will back her 100."

"Ecklie, did you steal the woman's social service file?" Atwater wore a sour look.

"Of course not. I have connections and a few favors were owed me. I did it to protect the unit."

"Yeah, but that's creepy, Ecklie. For God's sakes. I have a file like that. And if you decide to steal that one, I swear to God, I'm going to pull your lungs up through your throat with a salad fork. If Sidle decides to sue, you've made the whole department liable."

Eckllie let this last threat sink in for a moment before he continued. "Sheriff, there is all kinds of liability in this situation. The fact that Grissom here has carried on some clandestine relationship with her for who knows how long is an example."

Atwater raised his eyebrows at Grissom.

"He should be fired for that alone." Ecklie continued.

"Careful, Conrad. You know I like hypocrisy just as much as the next politician, but please remember that I married my secretary only two years ago."

"Completely different, Sir."

"Really." Atwater chuckled. "You have ass kissing down to an art form, you know that?"

He turned to Grissom. "So, you dating this girl?"

"Not really anybody's business, is it, Sheriff?"

"Not one damn bit, bug man."

"Sheriff, you don't seem to understand the seriousness of this situation." Ecklie's voice had become a whine.

"Oh, I think I do. You can't stand the man. He can do things you can't."

"Sir!"

"Stop it, Ecklie." He frowned at the man, and then turned his attention to Grissom. "You know, you are an odd man. Smart as hell and no social skills to speak of. Eager to shoot yourself in the foot every political opportunity you get. Not much for power. But hell, bugs tell you their secrets. Somebody dies, and all you got to do is torture some poor maggot, and he spills his guts for you. Literally!" he laughed for a moment at his own wit. "You make me look good. Other sheriffs want a Grissom too, you know."

"This is getting ridiculous, sir." Ecklie's face was getting red.

"Not really. The bug man does good work. So he can get away with a little something now and then. Hell, he can start wearing dresses to work if he wants. Hear that, Grissom?"

Grissom just winced a little in his direction.

"Oh, and let me give you a little advice. I do not mean to be graphic, but, do not, I repeat, do not screw her on the premises. Sally and I went through a world of hurt when one of the office staff walked in . Meetings and meetings and meetings on that one. You got that, Grissom?"

Grissom looked like he had swallowed a small, hairy rodent. He could barely manage a nod. Ecklie was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Sheriff, I'm sure that your circumstances were less…complicated."

"I was married at the time. You wouldn't believe the heartache with the divorce lawyers. I would say my circumstances were damned dicey, Ecklie." Atwater glared at him.

"But sir, I am just trying--"

Sheriff Atwater put his hands up in an effort to calm Ecklie. "Conrad, my man. I like you. You do great paperwork. You do paperwork that I never knew existed. And for this, I am grateful. Other sheriffs are maybe jealous that I have you too. It's just that they never mention it. So I think it would be best if you went back to what you do best, and let the bug man get back to what he does best."

"What about Sara Sidle?" Grissom asked.

"You really think she's going to make it?"

"Yes, she is amazing."

"Okay, but the next time we have to send the entire department out to rescue her, I am going to take Ecklie off his chain, and let him work you over real good. Hear?"

"Terribly descriptive, Sheriff."

"All right. We all good now?"

Grissom nodded. Ecklie's face was a mottled red. Sheriff got up, smiling wide. "Gotta go, gents." With that, he exited, leaving the two rivals still facing one another.

Grissom leaned forward a little and said, "Want to see my butterfly collection?"

"Shut up, Grissom." Ecklie snatched up his files, and stormed out of the room. Grissom leaned back and watched him leave, a smile growing on his face.

TBC


	16. chapter 16

Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of CBS.

Spoiler: No Humans Involved

This is the last chapter. I am kind of sad about it. It was fun to write. But, again, with the deepest appreciation, I want to thank all of you who have taken the time to read and review this story. You have all been great.I hope you are able to find this among the maintenance issues fanfiction isdoing this weekend. Won't be back toread the feedback until Monday evening. Braving the 30 below temperatures to drive to South Dakota. Again, thanks to all of you.

Sheila

Chapter 16

Sara walked into the lab with some hesitation. She wondered about reactions, feelings from her friends. She stopped in reception and sat down as if a citizen waiting to identify a dead relative. She nodded to the receptionist, and told her she was waiting for Brass. For a few minutes, she just sat there and watched people as they came in and out. Some of them were stunned, others angry. One woman came by consumed by a grief that startled Sara. A wall of sadness that spread out beyond her when she walked. Sara realized that people like this woman passed her almost every day here, and she almost never felt them like she did here, she never took the time.

Brass walked through the door, and she sat up straight. He smiled big and went straight for her. Before she knew it, she was on her feet, and engulfed in a tight hug. She held him tightly. Eventually he let her go, and held her at arm's length. "You look good. Can't believe it's the same woman I saw a week ago."

"I am so sorry, Jim. I can't believe what I put you through."

"You're important to all of us. We're just glad to have you back. When do you come get back to the unit?"

She smiled. "Next week, I start, I think. Griss is in with Ecklie and the sheriff as we speak. I may not even have a job."

"They wouldn't dare. Atwater wouldn't let me in that meeting. Says I'm a menace. But don't worry 'cause I got those guys on a leash."

She laughed at him. "Whatever happens, I'm okay, Jim. Really."

"So I got a surprise for you."

"That's what you said on the phone."

"But first, you need to know that I will work with you anytime, anywhere."

"I'm sorry I doubted that."

"Come on back." He took her hand and led her through the familiar halls. He stopped at the break room and pulled her in. Her friends were there: Catherine, Nicky, Warrick, Greg. All of the self consciousness she worried about melted away. She reached out and got warm bodies all around. For the first time in a long time, Sara really felt like she was part of a family. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away so as not to mar the joy of the moment.

"That's not all, girl." Brass gestured to someone behind the door, and a woman walked in. She was beautiful. Dark, curly hair, fitted suit, perfect make-up. She came equipped with a beautiful baby hanging off her hip. Nick walked up while she was looking at Sara, and the woman handed the child to him.

Sara stared at her for a long moment. "Dolly?" she whispered.

The woman broke into a big smile. "Captain Brass said your name was Sara."

"You saved me." Sara's voice betrayed the emotion she was feeling. She stepped forward tentatively.

Dolly took her hands. "You forced me to make a choice. I think that you saved me too."

Sara stood, paralyzed. Dolly took the initiative and pulled her into a hug. They held each other for some time.

"I graduate from real estate school today." Dolly whispered into her ear. "And I don't have any family or friends that can follow me into this new life. I don't have anybody to be there with me. Captain Brass is coming and I was wondering if you had any time this afternoon…"

Sara whispered back. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Dolly." She gestured at her friends. "This is Dolly. Do you remember?"

Catherine laughed. "We have had a few days to know her. She helped us find Viktor's contacts."

"In fact, I am babysitting Pavel while you are at graduation." Nicky said. The boy was pulling at his ear.

Sara looked at him with a confused look.

"I like the kid." He shrugged. "And there is a park across the street."

She furled her brow at him. Her Nicky had a penchant for women with a past. He laughed at her. Dolly looked at both of them for a moment but couldn't interpret their energy.

Warrick reached out and patted Sara's back. "I got this covered, Sara. Don't worry about a thing."

Dolly watched all of this with some confusion. Sara saw this and took her hand. "I am so happy to see you again."

Dolly leaned toward her. "I have another favor to ask."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Sure, what is it?"

Silence gripped the room. "I…well, Captain Brass found me a group of women survivors. Women who have experienced violence. They have a support group. I want to go, but I have never been to a group like that before."

Sara gave her a sympathetic look. Dolly stole a glance at Brass. "Anyway, I was wondering if you would be…"

"Hey, if you need a babysitter. I would be happy. No problem."

"Yeah, well, Sara, actually, I need someone to come with me. And I heard that you….have some understanding….Hell, I don't know how to do this." Dolly said to Brass.

Sara had a puzzled look. Then she looked around the room and saw the faces of the people she who cared for her. Something in her clicked and her mouth opened. She turned to Dolly. "You want me to come with you?"

"Yeah, I do. I heard…"

"We all thought…" Catherine continued.

"Ah, it's okay, guys. I think…it's a…good idea."

"Honey?" Brass began.

"No, don't even start. It's the right thing. I have been afraid of confronting this for a long time. But I think this is the right thing. And Dolly coming with me, it's some kind of destiny."

"Really?" Catherine had a worried look.

"It's meant to be. I want to go."

Catherine pulled Sara in, and squeezed her tightly. "You gotta a lot of courage, kid."

………………………………........................................................................................................................

She stood in his doorway for a moment and watched him at his desk. Hunched over, he was buried in paperwork. Her thoughts traveled back to the events of the previous night. His soft voice, the touching, the kissing. She never wanted it to end. But finally, some much needed sleep took her. The last thing she remembered was leaning against him on the couch, but when she woke up, she was in her bed. How he managed that was a mystery. But he was still there when she woke, in the kitchen making breakfast: her new, favorite meal. She blushed when she saw him, and he smiled at her, but the familiarity had changed. She could feel it. They stumbled over words, and it took a minute before he was willing to sit down at the table with her. During breakfast, neither had much to say, and what conversation they did have was stilted.

Sara's face grew hot. It was what she feared. The intimacy was too much. The two of them weren't capable of this kind of sharing. Her anxiety about this swirled around within her, and she wondered if this was the beginning of the end for them as friends. When she got up to put her bowl in the sink, he reached out and took her hand. Startled, she turned to him. For a moment, they did nothing but stare at one another. Then he took the bowl out of her other hand, and gently placed it on the table. He pulled her in, and she was in his lap, her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. He buried his face in her neck, and breathed her in deeply.

"Please don't let go," she whispered in his ear. "Please don't get scared."

He responded by teasing her earlobe with his teeth. She giggled and pulled his face to hers. It was what it was. Two intense, socially awkward people finally finding each other and learning, minute by minute, how to negotiate the minefields that had been long planted in their souls. The dirty dishes never got washed.

She smiled as she thought of the moments they shared earlier.

"Hey." She was startled when his voice broke her reverie.

She blinked and saw him regarding her from his desk.

"How long have you been standing there?"

She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and shook her head.

"You must have heard the news."

"What news?" She looked puzzled.

"Your job is safe. Everything is going to be okay."

Her smile grew. "Thanks Grissom. Really. Thanks."

"I didn't really have to do anything. Your work speaks for itself."

"That's great. So the sheriff was okay with everything?"

"He calls me bugman."

She cocked her head. "I could see that. Sort of like a superhero, huh?"

"Actually, the image I was getting from it was more like the guy who wears an overcoat in July with a tinfoil hat to protect against microwaves, and pushes a shopping cart from dumpster to dumpster behind the big hotels."

She laughed.

"And, as you can see, I'm back to work."

"Immediately, it looks."

Grissom sighed. "Ecklie says we are 36 hours behind in processing. That's not acceptable. We got to get up to speed."

She shrugged. "I can start now."

"Sorry. A couple more days for you."

"Oh."

"Go to Dolly's graduation. Start the group. Get some rest. Okay? I would feel better if you didn't rush it."

She nodded and then looked down for a moment. "You knew all about Dolly."

"Yeah, Jim talked to me about it yesterday. You okay with this?"

She lifted her head and nodded.

He pulled his glasses off and smiled. "I was hoping it would be."

She shifted from one foot to the other. "Bet you're going to be working a lot of hours the next couple of days."

He picked up the stack of paper. "Looks like it."

"Okay." She turned to leave.

"Um, Sara."

She looked back at him.

"Um, I was just wondering…I got a friend who's got a place at Lake Mead. ..nice place. And he told me that whenever I wanted to use it, you know….so, anyway I called him, and he's not going to be there this weekend…."

She cocked her head, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"You probably already have plans. I'm sure you do…"

"Are you asking me out?"

Grissom let out a big sigh. "Well, we have already expressed some…joint interest in one another, so….I thought….well, yes, I am asking you out….I mean, the place is lovely, and….there's hiking and….water…there are bedrooms…well, what I mean is that there are many, many bedrooms there if….you know, that might be a concern, and if it is…."

She leaned her head against the doorframe and regarded him. "Yes, Grissom, I would like to go to this lovely place with hiking and water. I can't think of anything I would like more. As for the bedrooms, I can only sleep in one at a time. How many do you require?"

"Well, it's just that I didn't want to imply…."

The way she hugged the doorframe while she flirted was hypnotizing. "I'd be pretty okay if you did imply, Grissom. I think we might just be ready for second base pretty darn soon."

He gave her a puzzled look, and she laughed.

"I'll pack my best shorts as a sort of an encouragement for you."

"Okay, so, it sounds like this is a go….and, I'm glad to…" Before he could stumble his way through a response, she had disappeared down the hallway, leaving Gil Grissom at his desk staring at the space she just occupied with a slightly goofy grin growing on his face.

The end


End file.
